Hear My Call
by nicola de lenfent
Summary: When Damon finds himself turning up inexplicably outside the Bennett house, he knows the little witch is to blame. Bonnie is struggling with a new spell, and for some reason a certain pesky vampire has taken up residence on her porch.
1. can you hear my call?

The first time Damon found himself outside the witch's home without knowing why, he thought nothing of it. The second time was a month later; the third, two weeks after that. He mentioned it to no one – each time, he zipped off at vampire speed without pausing to question it; although each time it was more difficult to leave than the last. It made him anxious every time he left, as if he was forgetting something very important.

Again – the witch's house. Damon frowned when he realized where he was: the second time this week, he was outside of Bennett's house with no idea of why he got there. He wanted to turn to leave, but found himself walking towards it. Her dad's car was not in the driveway; all the lights were out except a dull lamp in the living room. He walked up the porch steps, and found himself poising to knock before he shook his head to snap himself out of it. What was he doing? He had no reason to see Bonnie – he didn't exactly enjoy her company, and even if he could take a quick sip from her neck - she wouldn't invite him in to try. Besides, he didn't want to risk another aneurysm or Bon-fire.

Two weeks later, it happened again: Damon found himself inexplicably outside of Bennett's house, making his way towards her door, and all the way up the porch steps before he realized where he was. Either Damon was subconsciously taking this whole protection business too seriously, or something was up. He spun on his heel, facing his back to her front door, brows knotted pensively: did he sense danger for her? Damon focused, listened closely for any sounds that would explain his presence, when he heard her.

From the other side of the door, Bonnie was repeating a soft song. Damon turned to the window and saw her sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was waving her hands over flickering candle light and what he assumed was Emily's grimoire.

So, it's the magic. She's up to her witchy-juju ways again – she's doing something that is making him show up slow witted at her door step. Well, he'll be damned if he'll let her know that it worked. Before she can finish her tune, he dashes back into the night.

After a quick wave to Caroline and Elena, Bonnie left school that day focused on her phone – skimming it for any texts or missed calls from her dad. She was reading his latest "just checking in" text with a smile as she walked absentmindedly to her car and bumped into someone, dropping her books.

"Oh!" She uttered, surprised, as she bent to gather them, "I'm sorry." She looked up to offer a smile, but it quickly dissolved from her face to be replaced with a pretty scowl. "Damon."

He leaned down to her level with a smirk, "Bonnie." He didn't even move to help her gather her books – just kept looking at her. She refused to make eye contact. "Try any new spells lately?"

"What do you want, Damon? Trying the old know thy enemy bit?" She said his name as strangely as he'd said hers. Forcing herself to hold eye contact with the vampire, she walked past him to her car. In the time it took for her to fumble with her keys in her pocket, he was in front of her again, leaning casually against her driver's door.

"Does that mean you haven't been doing a little hocus pocus while daddy dearest was away?" He said, gesturing to emphasize his words, "No flickering candles, no centuries-old spell books, no pink pajamas and weird songs?"

If Bonnie's face fell – for even a second – she was quick to pull it back to a practiced glare: "Wow, the centuries old vampire resorting to stalking high school girls. Little sad, don't you think?"

Oh, yes – and there it was – that strange face he made where he could managed to appear psychotic and ridiculously sexy all at the same time. "First, I'm hardly at the two century mark yet," He flashed her a smile as she pushed the button to unlock her car, "Second, as boring as this town is with my blood sucking rights being trampled on, I wouldn't stoop so low as to stalking you."

"So, lucky guess about the pink pajamas then?" She challenged with an arched eyebrow. She opened the door and slid into the driver's seat.

"Well, I wouldn't call it _stalking_ exactly." His face was suddenly at the driver's door window. He leaned in with narrowed, searching eyes. "You're up to something, witch."

Bonnie repressed a shudder under his glare. "It's none of your business," She cleared her throat, put the keys in the ignition to start. "If Elena or Stefan needs me, they can come find me. But you," now she glared at him "you stay away."

Damon snatched his hand back as it stung with the (unfortunately) familiar sting of fire. He let her drive off; let her make her way safely back to her home thinking she'd won – thinking this was over. Something was pulling him towards her, and even if he wasn't remotely interested in anything Bonnie Bennett related, he was desperate to find out what it was. And he was desperate to make it stop.

Bonnie didn't stop her hurried movements until she got inside her door, even panicking for a second before she slipped the key in the lock and turned. She wasn't exactly _scared_ of Damon himself – but she was a little nervous about what he could do. Not only was he powerful, blood thirsty, and quick as lightening – the guy had, let's face it, a one-track mind – especially when it come to women. Not that she thought he thought of her as a woman – to him, she was nothing but a bit part on the Damon Show where it was All Katherine All The Time (except when it was All Elena All The Time). Not that she minded having a minor role in the vampire's life – but it was exactly why, when he began to intrude – when he began to push boundaries, that she felt compelled to return to the one sphere she felt safe: her home.

There was no way he could reach her here. In fact, there was no way any of them could reach her here, Bonnie thought, as she leaned her back against the front door. No Stefan, no Elena, no Caroline drama now that she was preoccupied with Tyler. No Katherine now that she actually was locked in the tomb. So for the few moments she got to herself – outside being manipulated for her powers – she just had to use them for something good: for something her own.

Bonnie clenched her eyes shut in frustration, taking a deep breath and refusing to let any tears fall. Just because the spell hadn't worked yet, she reminded herself, doesn't mean it never well. Ok, sure, it was kind of sort of maybe a dark art! It was, maybe, the kind of thing she probably shouldn't be playing with right now, right away when she was still so young and her powers still a bit out of her control. But if there was one thing she had learned from the misadventures of Stefan and Damon, it was that sometimes the end justifies the means.

She nodded resolutely and made her way to the living room where her familiar set up of candles and photographs remained in her circle. If not tonight, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then next week. Whatever it took out of her, Bonne Bennett was absolutely determined to use the summoning spell to bring Grams' spirit back to her – if only for one last moment with her grandmother.

And if Damon thought he was taking that away from her again, well, she'd like to see him try.


	2. don't invite me in

**AN:** **Thank you for all of the lovely reviews and favourites! This is my first VD fanfic, so I hope they are all in character. FYI, in this story, Bonnie is 17 and a senior in high school. The song I hear Bonnie dancing to is Magic by B.o.B. and Rivers Cuomo. :)**

The pull was more than magnetic. It was like being compelled and knowing it: except, Damon was both powerless and unwilling to alter the path that he knew his steps would take. From the moment he felt the tug at his chest, he knew that he couldn't change where it was taking him – and he didn't want to.

Sometimes it was so strong that he'd swear they were physically connected – like she'd anchored ropes between his ribs and twisted the other end around those little magic fingers. Then she would jerk her hand just right, or flick her magical wrist, and he'd feel that twine go taut and drag his helpless body towards her. Other times, it was a tentative tug – like a very hesitant nudge that, more than anything, made him ridiculously curious to discover what exactly the little witch was up to. Tonight was one such night.

Damon perched comfortably in a tree outside Bonnie's bedroom window and watched the teenage witch dance around to the radio, once in a while pausing to sing out a line or two. He couldn't help but smile, regardless of the fact that on previous nights he'd found equal joy in watching Bonnie sob hysterically and slam the Grimoire shut. Although watching her spin in front of the mirror, he could admit, was better than the nights he found himself utterly useless and irritatingly intrigued as she cried silently into a pillow with all the lights out, repeating the now familiar tune.

Six weeks before, he'd shown up furious and starving – having left a beautiful, willing evening snack – to see shattered glass and candle flames as tall as Bonnie herself. She had sat almost lifeless in the corner. If not for the dull beat of her heart, and the scent of her charmed blood still pumping, Damon might have thought her dead. He felt lethargic and helpless watching her – hypnotized by the steady up and down of her chest. He felt bored. So he left without a word.

He was surprised when she showed up at the Boarding House days later with Elena and Stefan laughing and joking as though nothing had happened.

He was deciding whether or not he was curious enough about Bonnie's after school activities to risk a righteous lecture from Saint Stefan about his not doing anything to help the potentially injured witch; or an admonishing speech from Elena about how he could possibly keep this from her – when Bonnie shot him a look that said – loosely translated – shut up, or I'll light you up.

He bided his time until Stefan and Elena retired upstairs for the evening before he approached her. "_What_ are you up to?" Damon asked pointedly.

"Nothing." Bonnie insisted, swinging her book bag around her shoulder. She glanced around nervously.

"Well, stop it." Damon growled, turning to face her now. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she interrupted in a bored tone: "Don't threaten me, Damon."

From beneath downcast lashes, Bonnie looked up at the vampire – an exaggeratedly condescending expression swept across her face. "Aren't you tired of getting burnt?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, and gestured widely with his drink. "I can snap your neck faster than you can blink, witch."

She arched an eyebrow and let a smile ghost across her lips. Bonnie was pretty when she was acting smug, he'd give her that – and ok, watching her gloat as if she'd won was kind of hotter than the flames he was sure he'd burst into – but his question remained, so he couldn't leave it alone: "What are you doing? Don't say 'nothing' again," he spat, mimicking her voice, "because 'nothing' doesn't leave you half dead on the living room floor."

Bonnie's eyes widened. "I knew it!" She whispered loudly, letting her book bag slide down her shoulder to catch in her elbow. She poked Damon violently in the chest. "You're spying on me!"

"W-what?" Damon blinked at Bonnie, a mocking laugh creasing his face. He smiled incredulously down at her angry, tight lipped face. "I'm spying on _you_?"

"_Yes_!" Bonnie whispered, "I _knew _it! I _knew_ you were outside, I could practically smell your rotting flesh." She poked him again, harder this time.

"What!" Damon said, feigning offense, "And you didn't even come out to say hi? All that witchy juju's made somebody a little bit of a bit—"

"Sshhhh!" Bonnie said, slapping her hand over his mouth. Her eyes were wide as she glanced to the staircase. She was obviously worried that Stefan would hear them.

He grinned against her hand. So, Elena didn't know. "Right, and _this_ won't make them suspicious at all." Damon muttered against her hand.

She made a disgusted face as she withdrew it, and rubbed the wet spit on Damon's sleeve. Restraining herself from taking a final stroke of his bicep, Bonnie placed her hands firmly on her hips. "Well we obviously can't talk here," She whispered. "Stefan can hear us."

"I don't know about that," Damon wiggled his eyebrows, "Elena can be pre-tty loud."

"Shut up." Bonnie rolled her eyes and made her way to the door. "Well? Are you coming?"

Bonnie felt... awkward seated next to the vampire in her car. Maybe not awkward, exactly – but there was definitely something strange and really hard to pin point about the atmosphere. She should've felt scared, or nervous – or anxious and ready to light him up – but she didn't feel any of those things: she felt oddly calm and at ease.

Damon must have been feeling awkward too, she thought: he had that annoying smug smile plastered across his face as if he'd won something. Which didn't make _any_ sense to her, seeing as how she had yet to answer any of his questions. No talking until they got to her home – that was the deal.

Before Bonnie could reach to undo her seat belt, Damon was opening her door. He forced himself to human speed as she made her way casually up the porch steps to the door. As she put the key in the door, he grabbed her arm roughly, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Bonnie shuddered at the feel of his hand gripping her flesh. She really couldn't help the rush of adrenaline that surged forward and – with a shift of her eyes – had Damon flying backwards. He was back to his feet quickly, rushing forward at her, his vampire face contorted in anger –his fangs protruding as he leapt at her. But Bonnie was inside her home before he could reach her. She was tempted to hide behind the door, which opened into the house, but held her ground as she watched his face fade back to southern gentleman.

"I'm sorry," Bonnie said quickly, a bit embarrassed at her overreaction, "I wanted to be inside first."

"What's wrong, Bon-Bon?" Damon muttered, "Don't you trust me?"

"I know you've been watching me, Damon." Bonnie said suddenly. She met his eyes and held them. "I know you show up _every time_ I am trying to get this spell right. It's distracting, and really... frustrating."

Damon let out a humourless laugh. "_You_ find it frustrating? How do you think I feel?"

"You don't have to keep checking up on me!" Bonnie continued without pause, "I'm not trying to kill you... this time. Not _everything_ is about you. It's hard to believe, I know – especially since your brother is so intent on spending time with you, and your ex was obsessed with you for 140 years, and Elena has _just_ gotten over her intense infatuation with you," She paused here now with a smile, "Oh, no, wait – none of those people were actually interested in you, were they?"

Damon narrowed his eyes at her for a brief second before a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He liked – no, wait – _loved_ – that as soon as she caught that hint of wickedness, her eyes were doused with worry. "Was that daddy's car I saw out there?" He took a step closer to the door, daring her to move back. She stood her ground. "I'm sure he'd find it awfully rude that his daughter didn't invite her friend in for a quick," he licked his lips, "something to drink."

"Don't you dare." Bonnie warned. There was silence as they stared each other down, each unsure of what next to say to gain the upper hand. "Look," Bonnie said resignedly as Damon took solace in the fact that she broke eye contact first. "Just tell me what you want."

"What spell are you casting?" He asked blankly.

Bonnie hesitated. She bit her bottom lip in thought and took a deep breath before saying: "I can't tell you."

Damon growled her nickname as a threat, "What is the spell, Bon-Bon?"

"Is that why you keep coming around?" She asked calmly – almost quietly, "You just want to know the spell?"

If Damon was confused by her cluelessness, he didn't show it. Obviously, her spell was what was making him keep showing up at her porch. It wasn't like it was a particularly comfortable or even attractive porch. But if she didn't know the power she was wielding over him, he wasn't going to be the one to tell her. It was times like this he remembered she was just a teenage witch with no one to guide her.

"Am I that obvious?" Damon said, arching an eye brow. "How do I know you're not up to something that will have enormous repercussions for us all?"

Bonnie laughed softly to herself, "Like what?"

"Like break the tomb spell." He said without thinking. "You don't know what side effects your little witchy juju might have." Bonnie's face fell; she looked utterly speechless – so he continued. "Besides, how do I know you aren't being put up to something by another – albeit less stunningly attractive – vampire?"

"What's wrong, Damon?" She repeated, "Don't you trust me?"

"Not as far as you can throw me." He said without missing a bit. "You have two options, Judgy. Either you tell me and this ends right here, right now and no one gets hurt. Or I ask Elena what secrets her best friend is carrying that are big enough to knock her out, and she gets it out of you for me."

Bonnie's lips pulled into a tight, thin line. "Option three. I stop. No more spells that you or Stefan doesn't know about."

Damon narrowed his eyes at her. She looked genuinely... sincere. It was disconcerting. He waited a few moments before responding, giving her a chance to rethink her decision. "And if I catch you doing it again?"

"You won't." She said quickly.

"Oh, I will." Damon assured her. "I'll know when you're up to your tricks. So, _when_ I catch you—"

"You won't." Bonnie promised again, stepping backwards into the house and letting the door close on Damon's angry eyes.

And she was right – well, for a while at least. Which is exactly why, six weeks later, when Damon found himself outside of Bonnie's house, a familiar, playful feeling pushing him towards her house – he gladly went_. Caught you, little witch._

Bonnie pulled her hair up into a tight pony tail, a mischievous smile playing across her lips. She hadn't even started the spell yet, and she could already feel Damon's eyes on her from outside her bedroom window. It had been weeks since she had last tried out the spell and – Damon or no – she knew that tonight was the night. She'd been eating better, sleeping better – more at peace with herself, her body had fully recovered from the accident a few weeks before, that left her semi-conscious and bleeding on the living room floor.

She'd woken up afraid – a feeling she never wanted to experience again. She could sense Damon's presence outside. It was strange – she had never been able to _know_ when he was around: her senses must be more acute just before or just after the spell. She always had this strange feeling when he arrived, as if she was remembering something she had momentarily forgotten.

Bonnie made her way down the stairs to the familiar set up. Emily's spell required tokens of affection, and a circle of your strongest element: _ask, and find who you seek. _Bonnie sat in the center of a ring of flames with old photographs of her Grams spread out before her.

Despite her promise to Damon, she had exercised serious restraint in not attempting the spell while her father was on his most extended stay at home of the year – six whole weeks without a moment to herself! Even if she could risk her father walking into the living room and seeing the ghost of his dead mother, Bonnie really couldn't risk Damon exacting his illogical revenge on her father instead of her. Worse, she couldn't risk Damon compelling himself an invite into her one safe haven in town.

Bonnie began the spell with the same words Emily had written down so many years ago: except she added to them her own soft, sad tune bursting over with all the emotion she felt after losing her Grams. All the sadness, all the anger. She focused on her Grams – on seeing her for the last time, on hearing her voice.

Except beneath that sadness was an anger – a rage – directed all at one being: her eyes, unseeing, shot open and, although her tune was controlled, tears of despair soon found their way down her cheeks. Bonnie shook her head, trying not to give in: not to let the overwhelming emotion distract her from her task.

But she could hear him! She could hear his breathing. She could hear the wind cracking against the tree he was perched in. She could smell his flesh: not rotting, but human, and male, and earthy and warm. And soon – so soon, and so quickly – she wasn't summoning Grams anymore. No, she was summoning a demon. Her voice grew louder, and stronger. The casual thought of Damon that had occasionally flashed through her mind when she cast the spell was now front and center in her bewitching mind.

Damon didn't exactly fall from the tree. The air was very still: there was no wind, no storm. But there was the witch's tether to his chest. He was aching all over. His lungs were caving in on themselves. He felt overwhelmed and anxious, scared and hurting – all over was sadness and guilt and shame. He felt at once desperate to stand beside Bonnie, and at once very, very desperate to stay away and not let her win.

He tried to hold on to the tree. He wrapped his strong, vampire arms around the trunk and held on with all his might – but it wasn't enough. The thick branch snapped like a twig and he was tumbling down faster than even he could stop. He could hear her voice spinning the same tune – _Can you hear my call?_

Bonnie opened the door casually with an apple in hand. More composed than she had been moments before, her confidence was bolstered by the success of her spell. Looking at the vampire, she knew she had summoned him. Did it only work when he was in close proximity? Did it only work because he was only half-dead? Or, sort of dead? Or, whatever – not quite as gone as Grams?

Leaning against the door, Bonnie tilted her head in triumph from the safe confines of her home as she watched him approach her. He paused with his head hung at the bottom of the stairs.

"Bonnie." Damon growled softly, arms braced against the porch railing as he looked up at her, standing casually in the door way as if she was completely innocent, as if she had done nothing to lure him there. She took a bite out of the apple she held and arched an eyebrow, "Yes, Damon?"

"Whatever the hell you're doing in there," He started, rushing towards the doorway until he stood right in front of her. She jerked her head up, ready to meet his psychotic eyes with her defiant ones. But what she saw was not anger, or rage, or the glimmer of homicidal maniac she'd become accustomed to seeing: she saw pain – real, suffering pain. Startled, she dropped her apple as he concluded: "Don't invite me in."


	3. your presence still lingers here

**A/N: Thank you everyone, for your wonderful reviews! It really inspires me to update quickly when I know someone is reading it :) I wrote this chapter listening to My Immortal by Evanescence.**

His eyes were more focused than she'd ever seen them – their lines of vision were tangled up together, and neither could move away. She said nothing at first as she fought the urge to move further into the house or to slam the door on the image of the wounded monster. His pale fingers turned even whiter from the strong grip on the porch railway: it was like he wanted to come closer, but couldn't let himself. He was trembling.

"Damon?" She whispered, hesitantly – suddenly as afraid for him as she was for herself.

He shook his head at her, and forced himself to take a step back.

"Wait," She said, taking a careless step forward. Before she could realize that she had stepped from the safe confines of her home, Damon was baring his teeth at her and rushing forward. One second, she felt his breath on her face – the next, he was at the bottom of the stairs in a crumpled heap. She'd thrown him.

Standing quickly, Damon gripped the stair rails again, and shook his head as he met her eyes. "I'm sorry." She was startled by how genuine the regret in his voice sounded.

"Are you okay?" Bonnie asked, a thrill of fear and adrenaline surging up her spine. She prepared to take a measured step back into her home, hoping she could move faster than his arms could to hold or bite her – when she saw his eyes well over with tears: "Make it stop."

She barely heard him: "What?"

"Make it stop!" Damon yelled loudly, his eyes flashing that vicious vampire glare before dulling again with pain.

Bonnie shook her head in confusion. The power of the spell overwhelmed her, clouded her judgment, and made her do stupid, impetuous things. She should have left him, she would think later as she lay in bed trying to chase tight fear from her chest – she should have left him without any comfort to feel the pain he had inflicted on so many others. But when he looked at her with those eyes, so much more vulnerable and wounded than she had ever seen them, and when he shook his head and whispered her name like a plea – "Bonnie..." – she couldn't stop herself.

It' just that, well, he sounded _so_ sad, and desperate – there was so much unanswered longing and need – so much deep regret and raw solitude – he sounded exactly as she felt.

Bonnie crossed the porch towards him, her bare feet thumping softly on the porch floor the only sound between them. She reached up towards him and, when he didn't move away, cupped his cheek in the palm of her hands. He closed his eyes, and she brushed his cheeks dry, murmuring "It's okay, you'll be alright."

Damon's body slowly relaxed. He leaned his face into her hand as one moved up to brush his hair from his face. Bonnie let out a steady breath as warmth crawled through her body from her feet to the tips of her fingers stroking the vampire's face. She felt a heavy calm whip up and envelope her: she was awash with a strange feeling of relief. Puzzled, she dropped her hand to her sides.

And as suddenly as the feeling came, it disappeared – and with it, the vampire vanished into the night.

**BDBDBD**

The next morning, Bonne awoke in tears that she didn't understand. She hadn't drifted to sleep until dawn, when the fear of retaliation was no match for the exhaustion that replaced the frenetic adrenaline. She forced herself out of bed, and inhaled the heavy silence that engulfed her. The house was empty with her father gone; and her phone was silent as it tended to be when there wasn't a crisis that her magic was needed to solve. She was alone.

Except, Damon lingered: the hypnotic pull of his eyes demanding her attention even in his absence – the strange, earthy, warm smell of him still stuck in her nostrils the next morning. The image of his face – contorted in beautiful sorrow – was ever present in her mind; and when his voice dared to echo in her ears, she felt a sharp tingle down her spine – _Bonnie..._

Bonnie walked cautiously to her bedroom window and peered outside, expecting to see the vampire smirking at her from his place in her tree or pacing outside her house or seated on her porch as she'd become accustomed to seeing him. But there was nothing but a large, broken branch to mark the events of the night before.

**BDBDBD**

Even after he left Mystic Falls, Bonnie's voice invaded Damon's solitude. When he closed his eyes, he could still hear her sorrowful tune begging him to come to her: _Can you hear my call? Are you coming to get me now? _He just couldn't stay near her. He couldn't risk feeling that way again – so miserable, so disgusting – so _human_. Damon shuddered at the thought as he swished his drink around in a bar half way across the country.

The girl beside him offered a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like your typical summoning spell to me."

"Go on." Damon took a sip of his drink, keeping a trained eye on the grimoire guru. She was a historian with no practical magic abilities: perfect for easy compulsion.

"Well there are summoning spells, and then there are _summoning_ _spells_," She said. "The basic summoning spell will call people to the witch – kind of like someone is calling your name, but you can't quite hear it. The other kind," her voice fell to hushed tones, "The _dark_ kind; it's not for calling living people to you – it's for waking the dead."

Damon scoffed, "You think someone can wake the dead?"

"Not just any dead," She continued, shaking her head and pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "In most of the Salem spells, there had to be a very strong emotion connection between the witch and the summoned. You know – parents, children, enemies, lovers."

"Grandmothers?"

"Yes," She said with an eager smile, "I suppose it would work on grandmothers. The pull is based on that connection. If it's not there, or if it's broken, then you can't be summoned."

"So if a guy, say, fell out of a tree," he gestured wildly with his glass, his eyes wide but focused, "because he hears some little witch's call – he _has_ to go to her?"

She nodded, "I think so. Unless the connection is broken, as long as they are one the same emotional wavelength, he would be pretty much bound to her. There aren't that many summoning spells out there, but that seems to be the gyst of what I've read." She paused, "You know, it's really rare to meet a guy who is as into magic and witches as I am. Especially one so cute."

"What about vampires?" Damon continued without listening, "Can witches summon vampires?"

She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. Vampires aren't real."

**BDBDBD**

"Bonnie, are you ok?" Elena asked from behind her as she stuffed her text books into her locker. Bonnie spun on her heel, a fake smile already plastered on as she searched her peripheral vision for any sign of the demon vampire hovering around her best friend. She had been avoiding public places for the last two weeks – anxiously preparing for Damon's inevitable revenge. When she wasn't comparing Mystic Falls history books and old newspapers with the dates and details in Emily's grimoire, she was honing her flame thrower skills in case Damon came to her before she was ready for him.

"Yeah, of course. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be ok?" Bonnie said with a shrug. She saw Elena's face fall with confusion, but before she could speak, Bonnie shifted the focus of the conversation: "What about _you_, Elena? How are you doing lately? How are things with Stefan?"

"Stefan's fine," Elena confided in her friend, leaning closer and whispering. "It's just... It's Damon."

"Damon?" Bonnie steadied her voice to not appear overly interested. "What, uh, what has he gotten himself into now?"

"That's just it," Elena frowned, "We don't know! We don't know where he is. Apparently, he hasn't been at the boarding house in weeks. Stefan's really worried."

"Isn't that, like, par for the course with Damon? Disappears when he wants?" Bonnie forced herself to shrug nonchalantly as her mind raced with guilt – had she killed him? That would explain the lack of retaliation. She never expected killing a vampire, let alone one as twisted as Damon, to make her feel so sick to her stomach. So she spat: "He's probably off on another killing spree."

Elena shook her head. "I don't know if that's it. But even if it is, we have to find him." She put her hand on Bonnie's shoulder. "Stefan doesn't want me to ask, but I have to. Bonnie, can you locate him?"

Now Bonnie's face fell. Why the hell would she want to find Damon? So he could rip her throat out for what she did? She couldn't spend time trying to _find_ him: she was too busy trying to hide from him. There aren't exactly that many places where he hasn't been invited in the past century or so. It's not like she could skip school for the rest of senior year. Elena's was definitely off limits – not to mention the Grill, Tyler's parties, and any Founder's Day events. Really, Bonnie was the one who needed help – not Damon. "Maybe I got lucky, and he lost his ring and walked into the sun."

"Bonnie!" Elena gasped.

"Did I say that out loud?"

Elena frowned at her friend. "Please, Bonnie?"

Offering Elena a sympathetic smile, she pulled her in for a hug. "Don't worry, Elena. I have a feeling he'll turn up soon."

"Like a _witchy_ feeling?" Elena whispered.

Bonnie stifled a laugh. "Definitely a witchy feeling."

**BDBDBD**

Damon was already on his way back to Mystic Falls when her voice chased sanity from him: _Is anybody out there listening? Can you hear my call? _There was the familiar tug – there the longing, the yearning to be beside the witch. Except this time, there was no anger – there was no hate, no shame, no petrifying remorse. There was just the pining need to be beside her. Not one to fight temptation – curious, and emboldened by his newfound knowledge – Damon let himself answer the captivating song.

Giving in to the pull was easy; letting her draw her to him like winding up a spool of thread – was simple. He made his way casually to the Bennett house with his hands in his pockets. He skipped up the steps to her door as playful excitement bubbled in his chest. He raised his hand to knock with a charming smirk on his face, when the witch opened the door with a wicked smile of her own.

"Hello Damon," She smiled at him, a strange sensation of glee burst into fireworks in her chest as he bowed his greeting. "Hello witch."

Damon grinned, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the door frame. "I think it's time we had a little talk."

"I couldn't agree more." Bonnie said, mirroring his stance with a hand on her hip. A strange fluttering joy tickled her stomach. She was glad he had come; and that he seemed unharmed. She _could_ control her powers.

"Wonderful." He clapped his hands together and moved towards her. She seemed to resonate light against the midnight sky: her skin was glowing, her energy was intoxicating. He was so distracted by the enchanting, alluring image of the Bennett witch extending her hand at him in warning that he couldn't smell her enthralling blood.

"You're not coming in." She said sternly.

"Then perhaps you would like to join me on the porch." He said through gritted teeth, making his irritation clear. He suggested with the movement of his arms that Bonnie walk before him, but she shook her head.

"No. I'll stay here, in the doorway. And you'll stay there, on that side." She met his amused eyes with her own confident ones.

"I'm not going to bite you." Damon said. For the third time in her life, Bonnie was struck by the sincerity in Damon's voice – it was the same simple, honest statement as his "thank you" so long ago.

Bonnie leaned against the door frame and slid down to sit on the floor. "I've been looking into _this_." She gestured at the space between them.

"You mean your little summoning spell?" Damon said, an exaggeratedly bored tone taking over his voice. He forced the creeping amusement from spreading warmly across his chest when Bonnie arched an eyebrow and smiled up at him.

"Well, well - Damon Salvatore with an interest beyond killing and bloodlust?" Bonnie said with a smirk. A ghost of a smile danced across his lips. He wasn't intimidating – his brows weren't contorted. He actually looked a little sad when he replied, "You'd be surprised at the things you learn in a hundred and forty five years, Bonnie."

Bonnie cleared her throat in hesitation. "Damon, I... I didn't kill you, right? You're not dead, are you?"

Damon stifled a laugh at the concerned expression that knotted Bonnie's brows together. "Well, well," He mimicked as he leaned forward and inspected her face with that sexy psychotic stare of his, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you might actually care about whether I live or die."

"Good thing you know better, then." She spat at him, annoyed. But even the roll of her eyes did nothing to halt the restless delight he felt – he smiled: "I'm not anymore dead now than I was two weeks ago. You're not waking the dead, kid."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "Damon, I—," She began before pausing to set her lips in a resolute line, "I think I made a mistake with this spell. I didn't mean to use it again it's just... I needed to talk to someone. And no one else knows! No one else _can_ know." She had felt relieved, overjoyed, exhilarated, ecstatic – like there was hope in the world again – when she sensed Damon on her porch. Every happy feeling seemed to multiply as she realized he wasn't there for revenge: that he wasn't baring his teeth, that he was almost amused by what had happened – was happening – between them. "There's no one else I can go to. I just had to talk to _you_."

Damon narrowed his eyes at Bonnie, studied her serious face, and felt his face fall to an equally serious one. The bubbling amusement was soon accompanied by foreboding anxiety: he felt sick to his stomach, he felt the nervous worry of a man about to have his heart broken and knowing it.

"Promise me." Bonnie said, embarrassed. "This has to stay between us."

"Ok." Damon said without thinking. Unblinking, his eyes still searched hers for a hint of what she was about to say. But he couldn't read them. He couldn't smell her blood. Why couldn't he smell her blood? He broke eye contact in frustration. He wasn't hurting, he wasn't overcome with shame and disgust – but he wasn't himself. Something was different. Something was at once strangely familiar and entirely foreign to him – almost déjà vu. But seriously,why couldn't he smell her blood?

"Damon." Bonnie repeated, taking a deep breath. "I think I made a mistake. The summoning spell isn't what I thought it was."

"What is it?" He asked, more to himself than in response to Bonnie's worry.

"It's for Katherine." Bonnie said, raising her eyes to meet Damon's. That snapped him out of the momentary reverie. There was the Damon she knew – his eyes homicidal, his face contorted as his teeth threatened to bare as he growled at her: "What?"

"It's for Katherine. Emily was summoning her." Bonnie confessed. "Damon, I'm scared. What if she—"

"What if she's out of the tomb?" He yelled at her. His face shifted now, and he came as close to her as he could without coming inside. She could feel his breath on her face – she could smell the earthy, warm scent of her summoned demon being replaced with bloodthirsty vampire. His good feelings: the anxious, nervous, teenage boy talking to a pretty girl for the first time feelings were all gone – replaced by deep contempt and disgust.

He scolded her with a wicked smirk and a condescending shake of his head: "Little witch, what exactly have you done?"


	4. your resonating light

**AN: Thank you for all of the favourites and reviews! Here is a holiday treat for you =) I'm sorry this one is so long! The next chapter is coming soon, and it is very Bonnie/Damon-bonding focused. Enjoy!**

Damon's accusing tone momentarily stifled the butterflies that had previously been working their way from Bonnie's stomach to the confines of her tight lungs. Crouched in the door frame, the wind whipped gently around her as she sat at the precipice of heat and cold: between a warm home and a cool night. Damon sat with his back to her, leaning against the wall of her home and staring with narrowed eyes into the distance as if he were studying the stars.

Even with the barrier between them – even with Damon's face contorted in mocking anger – Bonnie still felt pulled towards him. Like that night weeks ago when, against her better judgment, she hurried to comfort the demon as his eyes brimmed over with silent suffering. She had no choice – in that moment she _was_ Damon. She was suffering with him – or, maybe he was suffering with her – the loneliness, the solitude, the darkness that they had both briefly lost themselves to – were all twisted up with each other so that she couldn't tell where her pain ended and his began. She needed to comfort him – she _needed_ to stop his sadness, if only so that she could balm her own.

In the weeks between the summonings, Bonnie had convinced herself she'd imagined it. She must have exaggerated the strength of the connection; she was just reacting out of guilt for hurting another living – albeit depraved – soul, there was no way she could be so connected to _Damon_ of all people. Her rationalizations were so persuasive that when he showed up on her porch tonight, brimming with the same amusement, the same ecstatic, playful buzz with which she sensed his presence, she was shocked. There it was again – that desperate need to be beside him; that longing to touch him like an itch she couldn't allow herself to scratch. It was annoying, and frustrating, and - now that she thought about it – an entirely appropriate sensation to associate with the vampire.

She was being drawn towards him by the spell; she was starting to project her feelings on to him – it was clouding her judgment, it was putting her risky situations. She didn't trust it. Hell, Bonnie didn't trust herself. So she forced him to remain outside her door, and she refused to budge from behind the barrier or allow him to breach it.

Damon let out an annoyed sigh – "How do you know? Emily could've been summoning _anyone_."

"I looked into it after you left," Bonnie said quietly. "I wanted to know why you—well, why it _affected_ you like it did. You looked so," she forced herself to face him, "tortured."

Damon scoffed, ignoring her assessment of his state. He had been tortured – forced to feel the weight of one hundred and forty five years of murder, spite, rejection and anger in the space of a few seconds – and _she_ was the cause. How convenient of the judgy little witch to ignore her hand in his anguish! "And?"

"I cross-checked the date of the spell with some history books in the library. Emily is mentioned very briefly in the same year." Bonnie took a steadying breath. "She died that year, Damon. She was calling Katherine to save her."

Damon frowned. "Katherine wouldn't save her. Emily must have known that." He turned his head to face her, "You Bennetts can't all be _that_ stupid." When she set her annoyed eyes at him with a frustrated breath, Damon wanted to smile. It was a strange feeling, to want to laugh as they discussed Katherine's possible release – but there was something strange about this moment. He felt, again, like he was forgetting something. There was something he had meant to do, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"Regardless," Bonnie closed her eyes as a testament to her patience, "of what a psychotic, selfish bitch your lady love is," she smirked with her eyes closed, resting her head against the door frame so her neck arched into a tempting curve. "She fits the needs of the spell."

Damon watched the vein in Bonnie's luscious neck pulsate slowly, and focused his ears to listen to it – concentrated on smelling the sultry, sweet scent of bewitched blood – but he couldn't. She made an ethereal image in the space of silence between her next words; Damon was entranced by the light that seemed to spark and float in a delicate glow around her. He felt a sudden urge to touch her, to lure her beyond the barrier and clutch her fragile body in his killer hands.

But her eyes snapped open, and she broke the reverie with her own condescending tone: "These spells aren't as simple as you think. They're based on a bond between the witch and the summoned. Katherine fits – Emily had a bond with Katherine, she had strong memories and experiences with her, she probably had lots of tokens to channel her with. You can't do the spell without an emo—"

"An emotional connection, blah blah blah." Damon interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Spare me the lecture."

Bonnie gritted her teeth. Even with Damon showing off his talent of aggravating her, Bonnie couldn't drown out the edge of ecstasy that had settled over her the second he appeared. "And since Katherine and I don't share any common emotions, I thought maybe I couldn't summon her."

"You don't know what you share." Damon shook his head in frustration. Then suddenly, he turned to look at her. Bonnie's forehead was knotted in frustration and worry – she was searching him for answers. She didn't expect him to smirk at her, to send a fluttering through her chest as he said with an arched eye brow: "So, we have an _emotional_ connection, eh? I always knew there was something between us."

"Yeah," Bonnie frowned. "Hate."

"Sure," Damon said drily. "You hate me. Katherine hates me. Maybe that's your shared wavelength, Bon-Bon. Hell, who knows who you might've summoned channelling that feeling."

Bonnie set her lips resolutely. "No. You have to think of them to summon them. I haven't thought of anyone... well, except you." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

"Not even Katherine?"

"Why would I think of Katherine?" She snapped.

"Not even tonight?" He persisted, "She wasn't in the corner of your tiny mind as you called me, knowing the spell was meant for her?" Bonnie was silent as he glared at her. It was only a second's pause in which their eyes met and held, but it was enough to rekindle the nervous butterflies in his stomach. He felt unsettled, and insecure. He forgot what he'd asked her, what he was expecting her to say, as he slipped into the hypnotic trance of her green eyes. His face felt warm, his eyes wanted to droop closed – he remembered the strange sensation of her palm against his cheek – the soothing sound of her voice as her breath hit his ear – _it's okay, you'll be alright_.

"I don't know!" Bonnie said, "Not on purpose."

Damon rolled his eyes. "So you hate me, and you thought of Katherine."

"Emily's grimoire is probably enough to be a token," Bonnie admitted, shuddering at the thought. "If she was near it long enough, and enough of it is about or for her, then..."

"You don't have tokens from me." Damon said, suddenly. "Are you sure you even know what you're doing?"

"Who needs a token when you're stalking me?" Bonnie spat back.

Damon grinned, "I _told_ you – I wasn't stalking you. You must have summoned me."

Bonnie gaped at him, and sputtered: "How could I summon you? I was channelling Grams."

"Maybe our emotional connection is a lot stronger than you want to admit." He smirked.

"Well, I do hate you an awful lot," Bonnie conceded with a wicked smile.

"It is my fault she's dead," Damon said casually as he narrowed his eyes to study her reaction. Bonnie trained her face to not respond, and only arched an eye brow in annoyed disbelief when he continued: "Or at least that's what your simple mind thinks. You must have thought of me when you were summoning her." He grinned when her face fell: "You did think of me."

"I was thinking about my dead grandmother, not touching myself." Bonnie struggled to keep from throwing him across her yard. "No need to look so smug."

"Can't help it," Damon shrugged, his grin growing impossibly large across his face. "Especially with that lovely image in my mind."

"How could I have summoned you without any tokens of yours?" Bonnie reminded him, trying to pull the conversation back to the point.

"Well, summoning spells aren't as simple as you think," Damon mocked, doing his best Bonnie impersonation and gesturing wildly. "Maybe Emily got it wrong."

"Maybe." Bonnie rolled her eyes.

Damon stood suddenly, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way from the Bennett home as easily as he came. He called over his shoulder as he hopped down the stairs: "Next time you want to see me, Bennett – use a cell phone. It's 2010, not 1864." At the bottom, he turned to offer her a charming smirk.

"Where are you going?" Bonnie asked as the distance between them increased, clutching the edge of the door to keep herself from stepping beyond it.

"To the tomb." He said, turning to look at her without breaking his stride – walking backwards without a hitch in his gait. "There's only one way to find out for certain."

"Wait, Damon," Bonnie said, suddenly shy. "Do you feel that?" The fluttering kicked up as he turned to look at her from the bottom of the porch. He tossed her a teasing smile, "Feel what?"

"Like a—" She struggled for words as she gestured at the space between them, "like a fluttering feeling," she waved her hand over her heart and stomach, "like bubbles bursting all over here?"

His eyes twinkled as he looked at her. Ha! So she _was_ the reason for the strange, tickling delight that curled warmly around him that evening. He was reflecting her emotional energy. His mind turned briefly to the deep grief he'd felt during the last summoning, but he quickly dismissed the thought. That tortured, tormenting grief – that couldn't be brewing in his witch – he couldn't handle being responsible for that. Damon smirked, "I tend to have that effect on women."

Bonnie scowled, "Nevermind, forget I asked!" Ugh, so was it all her – this strange sensation, this odd ecstasy was all her own? Just looking at his smug expression made her grind her teeth in frustration. Without another word, she spun on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

For a second, Bonnie stood with her back to the door. Just knowing he was on the other side, she felt a strange desire to remain close. Stifling the overwhelming urge to open the door and be face to face with the vampire again, Bonnie clenched her fists resolutely and forced herself deeper into her house in an attempt to more fully sever the spell's enhanced connection.

For a second after Bonnie closed the door, Damon fought the urge to rush up the porch steps, desperate to feel her in close proximity. He felt the tug fade, and the fluttering sensation become a dull hum as – he assumed – she moved further away from the door. He ignored the remnants of strings that his puppet master was pulling at with her magic fingers, and forced himself to set his mind to the mission at hand: to Katherine.

**BDBDBD**

Damon grunted, strangely feeling the exertion of his strength as he pushed the tomb door open. He flexed his muscles subconsciously, preparing himself to either find it empty, or to be attacked by a very powerful vampire going insane from the lack of blood and the siren's call that she could not answer.

When he'd stopped by the boarding house earlier for a shot of blood and some potential back up, he'd found a very broody Stefan giving him the third degree about his whereabouts. Shrugging him off, he'd made some excuse about meeting Sherriff Forbes and left them to continue planning some adolescent get together at the Boarding house in two weeks. Stefan was like a stranger to him: he was too old for high school intrigue – seen and done too much to be so captivated in the life of a teenage girl. Granted, Elena was a beautiful and sentimental teenager to be fixated on. But nonetheless, he knew in his gut that figuring out the dynamics of a very puzzling summoning spell was something better kept to himself before he got another lecture about the importance of humanity, and normal teenage experiences and blah blah blah from the dynamic duo.

So he took a steadying breath, and a bag of blood, and met Katherine on his own.

"Damon." She said, with a hand on her hip, trying to sound commanding but sounding more like a dizzy, distracted child. She shook her head and tried again: "Did you miss me?"

He tossed her the blood bag, and watched as she devoured it hungrily in seconds, looking up at him with a smirk on her face afterwards. "Good to know I won't wither away." When his only reply was an arched brow, she continued more herself this time: "Doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose to feed me every few weeks? You could save yourself the trouble and toss that Gilbert boy in here again."

Damon smiled, and his eyes went wild. "You seem to be yourself – not particularly eager to go anywhere."

Katherine narrowed her eyes at him, and asked like an exhausted and impatient mother. "What are you getting at, Damon?"

"Maybe you haven't heard it from your little sound proof cell," He gestured with his fingers, "But someone's been summoning you."

Katherine smiled slowly, and let out a curious laugh. "Summoning _me_?"

"You haven't heard it." He concluded, with a frown.

"Oh, I've heard it." Katherine met his eyes, and licked a stray drop of blood from the corner of her lips. "I'm particularly in tune with the Bennett blood line."

"And yet, it's not enough to break this spell because here you are." Damon said, tauntingly. "You're still trapped here. You must be desperate to answer that call."

Katherine crossed her arms, mirroring Damon's casual but condescending stance. "You think the Bennett witch is summoning me." She laughed more wildly this time, raising her thin hands to cradle her face in unabashed amusement. "You always were so... cute. And simple-minded."

"It's Emily's spell." Damon said through gritted teeth. "She was summoning you the year she died."

"OK." Katherine arched an eyebrow, and smiled wickedly.

Damon's anger flared and he stepped dangerously close to the edge of the barrier. "Did Emily summon you?"

Katherine laughed again, taking a step back and said irrelevantly with the wave of her hand. "Summoning spells breaking barriers – what an _interesting_ theory."

"Did she summon you?" Damon said like a threat, slamming his fist against the wall as he felt the familiar tug at his chest start to flutter into anxiety and distress.

"After all," she continued with an arched brow, "Who summons someone who is otherwise easily reachable?" Katherine paused to smirk thoughtfully as she cast her eyes around her confines, "This prison probably is no match for a well cast dark spell. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Answer me!" He growled and narrowed his eyes at the decaying vampire, who just smiled in return as she walked backwards and faded into the darkness.

"Tell Bonnie I'll be seeing her soon."

**BDBDBD**

When Bonnie left home for school the next day, she found Damon sitting on her porch stairs, sprawled out and deep in thought. She almost thought she startled him – but that was impossible, surely he could hear her steps, and her heart beating, and smell her – she ignored this thought, nervously – witch's blood. His face was more gaunt than a vampire's should be – he had stayed up thinking about what Katherine had said – what her insane, blood-starved laughter had meant: _"Summoning __**me**__?"_

"Damon!" Bonnie said, kicking him lightly before sitting down beside him. She checked her watch – she had to hurry, or she'd be late for school. "I waited for you last night, you never came back."

Damon turned to her, furrowing his brow. He stared at her for a moment, feeling the flutters bubble up and clenched his teeth before they spilled out of his mouth in the form of some inane, disgustingly pointless words. "I paid Katherine a little visit last night."

Bonnie's eyes grew wide. "Is she—"

"She's still there," Damon interrupted, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes at her. It was like he was trying to figure out – test her – like he suspected her, or something. Bonnie shuddered slightly at the thought of it: how evil could this spell be if _Damon_ was suspicious of her?

"The spell breaks barriers," He continued, pensively. "It _must_. It's a dark spell, it makes sense. Who summons someone who isn't trapped behind some kind of barrier anyway?"

Damon rambled on, running a shaking hand through his hair as he scanned the distance. He looked as though he'd been up all night – as haggard as a human keeping watch at her door step like a sentinel. But Damon would never do that. "Have you been here all night?" Bonnie asked gently, and his eyes snapped back to life.

"Are you listening to me, little witch?" Damon said slowly, leaning back against the stair case and returning his eyes to the distance.

"Katherine's in the tomb," Bonnie nodded, so awash with relief that she didn't feel the need to return Damon's tone. "It can break barriers, but it didn't."

"But it _can_." Damon insisted. He felt the nervous bubbles building again, stifling him as they rose up his chest. She was still looking at him with that pitiful, gentle look in her eyes – had he really been here all night? Thinking, worrying, and watching out for that psycho vamp bitch?

Bonnie offered Damon another gentle smile and he rolled his eyes at her, furrowing his brow deeper and shoving his hands in his pocket. His hand went absently over his heart, and she mirrored his movement: flurries of excitement started to build again. "Damon?"

He didn't respond, so she inched closer. Bonnie licked her lips, and stopped herself from asking again – _Do you feel that?_ – especially when Damon's gritted teeth and concentrated scowl was mirroring exactly how she wanted to respond to the gleeful turmoil twisting around her heart. She rested her hand on the space between them and saw his hand twitch and then clench into an inaccessible fist. He moved to put it in his pocket, but she stopped him – stretching her fingers to brush and rest against his.

He turned to face her slowly as his hand relaxed under hers – it was a loose fist now, and her fingers felt easily into the curve of his palm. Damon's brow smoothed out, and his jaw relaxed. He closed his eyes as a feeling of settled relief settled over his aching nerves. The fluttery, fragile bubbles burst at the edge of his throat in a sigh and seemed to spread a sweet contentment throughout his body.

Any surprise Bonnie felt at Damon's reaction was quickly silenced by her own sudden burst of calmness. The butterflies stopped fluttering, and instead warmth reached tickling fingers up and outwards throughout her body. She felt as though she had remembered something at once important and relieving: she wanted to laugh, and, without thinking, squeezed her fingers more tightly over Damon's palm.

His eyes shot open and he was staring at her again. He pulled his hand away, and shoved it in her pocket. His face contorted as he struggled to keep the vampire at bay. All at once, he was overwhelmed by a crushing desire to pull her to him, to tug at the long strands of black hair until her throat was revealed and pulsating before him. Finally - he could smell her blood: the sweet, tangy scent – the dulcet melody of her pulse fluttering in his ears like a bird's wings trapped in his palm. Except he didn't want to let the bird go as he dropped her hand and hastily stood and blinked to regain composure: he wanted to clap his hands together and absorb her chirping song into his heart – spill her blood into his skin.

"Damon?" Bonnie asked, squinting at him in the morning light as he walked away from her. She rubbed her palms against her jeans as she stood up, as if she could wipe off the warm tingles his touch had ignited.

"What?" Damon barked at her, the vampire in him coming to the surface – his fangs curved dangerously at the edge of his mouth. Bonnie forced herself not to lean backwards as the force of his aggressive, predatory question hit her. Adrenaline kicking in, she was about to focus her energy into creating tiny sparks of aneurysms in his mind when he let out a mournful, hungry growl and disappeared from her sight.

Bonnie wasted no time hurrying to her car and driving directly to school. She wouldn't see Damon for the rest of the week – even as she stopped by the Salvatore residence to go over plans for her upcoming birthday party, Damon was nowhere to be seen. Even without him present, Bonnie was still haunted by the image of his eyes – the sound of his voice: _The spell can break barriers_.

She shuddered alone in her room at night thinking about it. When she woke from lonely dreams – dreams where she was desperate, reaching and grasping for Grams' hand as she was pulled into a world where Bonnie couldn't reach her – her immediate thought was _Damon_. She would rush to the window to find her porch empty – to see her father's car gone, to feel, again that settled, sick feeling at the pit of her stomach of being absolutely and utterly alone.

**BDBDBD**

"What did you do?" Damon barked at her playfully the following week, even before she had fully opened the door to meet his amused eyes. He tilted his head to one side as she braced herself against the door, clad in a purple satin robe and fluffy bedroom slippers and cradling a tea candle whose flame was burning much higher than it should be.

Bonnie let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, "You came."

"Of course I came – you called." He narrowed his eyes at her. There was something strange – something nervous, something sultry about the atmosphere air tonight. "The question is – why?"

Bonnie shrugged at him. "I wanted to try calling Grams again."

Damon rolled his eyes, "So you dialled the wrong number and got bad old Damon instead?" He crossed his arms, and leaned against the outside of her door, facing her. He sniffed the air for her blood, but could only smell fire and lavender wafting from the candle – or maybe wafting from the witch herself.

"No," Bonnie shook her head, "You said the spell can break barriers." The candle light danced off of the angles of her face as she looked up at him, unsure of herself. Her skin seemed to glow – seemed to hum with discordant light that fought with the flame for his attention.

"Right; which is why I thought we agreed you weren't going to do this anymore," Damon's eyes danced with the threat of danger. A sly smile spread across his lips as he spoke smoothly: "Are you so desperate to see me that you're willing to risk freeing Katherine?"

"First," Bonnie said, as she dropped the candle from her hand and hovered her palm over it, setting it gently on the floor, "I never said that I wouldn't cast the spell again." With the twist of her wrist, the candle flame was replaced with a smouldering stream of smoke. Damon's gaze was steady and unstuttering as he watched her skin ring with the most delicious firefly glow.

"Second," Bonnie hesitated, unsure of herself. Damon shifted his weight in response. "I would risk almost anything to see Grams again."

"Then why am _I_ standing here?" Damon asked, with a fake smile plastered across his face. He felt tense – like he didn't want to hear her answer – _you're an accident._

"I wanted to see you." Bonnie startled even herself with the frankness of her words. The smile on Damon's face seemed to spread teasingly into his eyes as he waited for her to continue. Bonnie ignored the nervous heating spreading across her cheeks in what she was sure he, in his arrogance, would interpret as a blush. "You were avoiding me. Anyway, you said the spell can break barriers. There's a barrier here. Let's break it."

"Barrier?" Damon leaned forward in morbid curiosity. He smiled when she gestured at the doorway. She wouldn't invite him in – that would be too obvious; and, well, kind of pointless. "How?"

"I've thought about it all week." Bonnie said, seriously. "The only difference between what this barrier means to you – and what Katherine's means to her is that she is desperate to break it. Hungering, starving even."

"And?" Damon smiled charmingly. He could taste the metallic edge of the air; there was something sensual about the way Bonnie stood – about the way she tossed her hair behind her and met his eyes dead on without fear. "You're going to starve me?"

Bonnie smiled slowly, and that creeping blush crawled its way to her cheeks again. Although the heat in her face was usually invisible, in the throes of a spell, it edged her bronze glow with a subtle pink that emanated a delicious heat of its own. Damon licked his lips as he awaited her response.

"I want you to want to cross this barrier, Damon." Bonnie said seriously, holding his eye as she reached for the knot at her waist. "So I'm turning to my last resort." His eyes had left her face: he was focusing on those nimble fingers untying the knot – on the belt slipping from her hands to the floor beneath her feet, half in and half outside her home. "Temptation."

Bonnie kept her eyes trained on Damon's, bracing herself for a possible attack – and steeling herself against what she was exposing herself to: both physically if he attacked her, and emotionally if he ridiculed her. She pulled the collar of the robe down over her shoulders and held it there for a moment.

The witch was glowing. Light was buzzing and dancing off of her in waves of bronze and blue and pink light – and the more of herself she revealed, the more entranced he was – the more captivated, the more difficult it was to pull his eyes from her form.

Bonnie took a deep breath and let go. The robe fluttered to the ground in a pool of satin at her feet. She stood in front of Damon, awkwardly trying to fake a pose of confidence, in a matching purple lacy panty set.

Surely he couldn't be the only one who could see this firework display at two in the morning – surely if a neighbour was awake, they'd become suspicious and he'd have to snap some necks. But instead of feeling annoyed, Damon felt a surge of possessiveness ignite his adrenaline – he took a step closer to her, squaring himself in front of the doorway to block the view of peering eyes. "What are you doing?" He growled.

Bonnie smiled up at him, as the strange tug toward him began to singe with an unnameable heat: "Just, you know, testing a theory."


	5. tangled up in you

**AN: Thank you again for the reviews! They inspire me to keep going. I'm glad you like it, and thank you for all the compliments about my writing style. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it is more BD-heavy than plot-heavy. Sorry it is so long; I wanted to keep going! But decided to save that for the next chapter, which will be out very soon :) **

"What are you doing?" Damon gaped at the young witch before him, shifting her weight uncomfortably in front of him. He kept his eyes steadily trained on hers, refusing to scan over her exposed body despite the call of the firefly light that jumped and sparked from her skin like a caged star in the night.

Bonnie opened her mouth to explain, when Damon turned his back to her and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What are _you_ doing?" She asked with a curious laugh.

"I refuse to look at you in this state." Damon stated simply with a patronizing nod of the head as if affirming his position to himself.

"In this state?" Bonnie repeated with a laugh. When he didn't reply, she furrowed her brow in confusion and frustration and crossed her own arms in front of her. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Damon growled. "Although I have a reputation for succumbing easily to feminine wiles that is not... completely unfounded, I do have some moral standards. I will not let you degrade yourself in this manner."

Bonnie laughed loudly, amusement sparkling in her eyes. When he didn't spin to face her with a devious, playful smirk, the smile faded from her face. "Oh my God, you are serious."

Even with his back to her, he could feel the light she resonated warming up his back as if he was standing with his back to a fireplace in the winter – and likewise, he was drawn to her. He wanted to reach his hands out and warm his palms in her glorious heat. But he resisted, flexing the muscles in his legs as if to cement his stance. "I am a gentleman, Miss Bennett. Such public displays of... well, such public displays are entirely inappropriate. You would do well to clothe yourself before you embarrass either of us any further. Next time, at least have the decency to seduce me in private."

Bonnie could hear his smirk at the end of his statement and rolled her eyes. What the hell was wrong with Damon? She scooped to pick up the robe, and was tying the belt when she looked up to see Damon's hungry eyes staring at her. Within seconds, he was as close to her as he could be, eyes scanning her body like a predator as she forced herself to stand her ground.

"Why are you dressed?" Damon frowned, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"What?" Bonnie said, exasperated. "You told me to get dressed!"

"And you choose now to start listening to me?" He shot back.

"You know, I didn't think it possible, but you have really surpassed all expectations." Bonnie said, mocking his Southern-gentleman persona as she rolled her eyes. "You actually are becoming _more_ infuriating!"

With a small smile haunting his lips, Damon tilted his head in thought, took a step back and continued to stare at her. He could tell the exact moment when Bonnie was dressed again: the enticing warmth that had his mouth watering to touch her cooled, and the light dimmed behind the shadows of her robe. "Why, thank you."

Bonnie narrowed her eyes at the vampire shifting his weight awkwardly before her, like a young boy who had been caught looking up his teacher's skirt. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Damon said through a clenched-teeth smile. He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and kicked the figurative dirt as she continued to stare at him. "Seriously, can we just go back to nudity? I think you were on to something with that hypothesis." When Bonnie's face didn't betray a shadow of amusement, and she kept looking at him – no, not at him; more like right through him – he yelled angrily: "What?"

"What's wrong, Damon?" Bonnie repeated, more gently this time. Damon was pacing on her porch – his posture, his body language, even his voice had been shifting back and forth from a polite, clipped and controlled stranger to the animalistic, uninhibited and selfishly spoiled brat she had come to know. She stood at the edge of the doorway, tempted to reach out a hand to touch him, to soothe him with that wave of sweet relief that overcame her when she held his hand, to understand the pain that contorted his face in confusion.

"Nothing!" Damon said, dismissing her with an exasperated sigh. He turned to walk away from her, but only got as far as the porch stairs. He collapsed onto them, cradling his head in his hands. A deep pang of regret started to reverberate from the base of his stomach until it was extending in fingers that clutched at his heart and tickled the back of his throat with the threat of years. The tug at his chest was pulled so taut that it physically hurt to turn away from her: it was like an invisible twine was tangled up inside his chest, and every tentative move made it pull tighter on his lungs until he was breathless with sadness.

"Damon?" Bonnie's voice came hesitantly from behind the door.

The grasping, sickening grief was too much – he refused to show the witch his weakness through a stuttering sob that threatened any word he spoke. He closed his eyes tightly and fisted his hands beside him. He choked back a growling scream and clenched his teeth in defiance. He could control this shift – he could control this change; the deep, heart-wrenching pain was nothing compared to him. He just had to focus! He willed the world to a fuzzy blur: no more sound of wind, or smell of lavender; no more sound of cars and bats in the distance; no more Bonnie Bennett and her pretty, untouchable pout. He heard Bonnie's voice lilt in the background, but ignored it.

Damon washed the world from existence, but the deep grief continued to creep its way throughout his body. His hand moved unconsciously to clutch at his chest as his mind began to rush with images. Images of Katherine – smiling, laughing, dancing with him - with Stefan; images of Elena – scolding, shaming, defending him. His body lighted in the fabulous gleeful pain that came with unrequited love: the fragile hope, the adrenaline rush of standing on the precipice of deepest heart break.

And then the darkness: the blood, the broken necks and broken girls, the pile of bodies that lay behind him as he marched forward unrepentant; the sting of the first bite he could not take back – the first death at his hands, the realization that this is what he was now – a monster. The darkness was stifling. The darkness had been shut out, had been just another fact of life, had been just an ever increasing gap from Stefan and his laughable pretence of humanity: but now it was here – now it was here, and it wouldn't disappear. It smothered him like dark fog – he could hear himself gasping for air even as his lungs were heavy with emptiness: he was a monster. His crimes of the past 145 years came back to him in a single blow – and he was _feeling_ them – not just seeing them from his detached, quasi-immortal perspective. He was _feeling_ every wound he inflicted, every throat he tore out, and every sorority girl who didn't return home alive as if he was – well, as if he was human.

But through the fog, the light resonated still. Damon could feel the warmth of her firefly glow – he could feel her presence hover around him, settle behind him and expel glorious warmth from behind him. The bronze, the blue and the pink light – the bright and the twilight, the grandiose glow like a sparking star behind him – spread across the darkness like ink in clear water. He felt it at his chest: the warmth wrapped around his heart, was flung carelessly across his stomach. He felt it on his back, making his muscles relax and hum in anticipation all at once: he felt it curve most strongly behind his right shoulder blade. The light danced around him until he was sitting on Bonnie Bennett's porch in the middle of a fragile star. When Bonnie's voice danced in a breath over his ear, Damon's eyes shot open in response.

"Damon," Bonnie repeated, wrapping her arms more tightly around the vampire. He hadn't responded to her calls – he had sat in agony alone. She could feel the anguish: she could taste the angst, the deep regret. Her tongue was heavy with the bitterness, her own eyes welling over with Damon's tears. It was too much: too much to be tested, too much to be abandoned on the edge of her porch. She had run forward to crouch behind him and press her body to his back in an enveloping hug. She rested her cheek against the upper right corner of his back, and ran her thumb in soothing circles against his chest. "It's ok, you'll be alright."

When she felt his muscles relax, Bonnie pressed her body more closely to his. Her desperate urge to touch him had not been quenched; although she was beside him, she had to be closer – she wanted more. Her heart was stinging with his: it's like the foggy, suffocating pain was being divided between them, but it was not enough to relieve him. _I can take more_, Bonnie thought. She closed her eyes against the sting of Damon's tears against her eyes, and clutched his shirt. They were so tangled up together – their bodies and the emotions so lost in misty twists and turns – that she couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

The fog lifted as quickly as it came, but Damon was in no hurry to have the witch release her hold on him. When she felt him calm down beneath her grip, Bonnie prepared to move – but he stopped her by clutching her hand in his, and holding it against his chest where his heart should be beating. He clutched her fingers gratefully in his own, closed his eyes, and leaned back into her embrace.

There it was – the sudden, delicious relief. It was like a high he never knew existed – a high so different from drugs or alcohol or sex – so different from bloodlust. A giddy sensation sent tingles crawling up his body sprinkling a strange calm – a deserved reprieve from the clutches of the summoning spell. And although he knew this was a side effect: this feeling of being doused in Bonnie's soothing light – Damon felt liberated and at peace. And with the giving of that peace, his night light witch dimmed to a low glow.

He could feel her heart beating against his back; he could smell her tangy blood in the air. But he was prepared for the sudden onslaught of hypersensitive senses and controlled his face from contorting into a vampire scowl. Again, her voice tickled his ears and sent a sharp sensation down his spine: "Damon?"

"Not that I will tire of you whispering my name," Damon said, "But is that all you can say?"

Bonnie smacked him gently before letting her arms rest against him again. "Don't scare me like that."

"That was all your doing." He said with a casual shrug.

"What was that, anyway?" She asked, whispering against the back of his neck. Damon could feel the arch of her nose brushing against his hairline and trailing lower - he could feel the weight of her forehead as she leaned against him and continued tracing those delectable circles on his chest with her thumb. His eyes almost crossed in the lazy, soothing pleasure of being locked in a woman's arms and knowing that she wanted him there. So, he spoke the truth: "I don't know. It just comes over me sometimes..." _the weight of the past_.

"I'm sorry. It's the spell – it's my fault." Bonnie shivered before continuing. "I... I think I felt it too."

Damon scoffed at her in condescending frustration and stood up, effectively breaking the lock her arms had around him. He turned to face her, shoving his hands in his pockets and growled, "You don't know what you're talking about."

But Bonnie continued looking down, her hands wrapped around her body as if to stave off a sudden chill, as if he hadn't spoken. "It was so painful... like agony; like intense regret."

"Shut up." Damon growled at her, glaring at the fragile figure before him. He didn't need to rehash the past 145 years _again_. He also didn't need to hear that she'd seen a vision of his life – just the thought of revealing to her exactly what an evil jerk he was – had been – was making him itch with vulnerability and the fear of exposure. He could snap her neck to make her stop talking. "You don't know shit."

"Maybe it was me, then." Bonnie shook her head and took a steadying breath. When she looked up to meet his angry eyes, her own brimmed over with tears: _her _tears. They were heavy with her own regret, fear and anguish – they were the tears of a lonely woman, searching for someone who understood her – searching for a sign from the only person who could look at her, and see _her_ completely: Grams.

Damon's anger left him as he saw her stand up, and mutter another apology before running into the house and closed the door. He reached his hand out unconsciously to stop her – but it was too late: she was gone. He felt her absence more acutely than he expected; he trained his ears to hear her crying inside – her heavy heart, her gasping breaths between sobs. He gritted his teeth and walked away, still listening – letting her cries grow dimmer with slowly increasing distance. This would be his punishment, he thought guiltily, for inflicting her with pain helplessly that she had so easily taken away from him.

**BDBDBD**

When she woke the next morning for school, Bonnie's eyes were still puffy from crying the grief away. She had contemplated calling her father, but she didn't want to worry him while he was away. She was determined to make it through the school day before trying to understand the events of the night before.

As they sat together for lunch, Elena and Caroline talked excitedly around her about balloons and what type of cake she liked best. When they stopped to ask her for her opinion, Bonnie just smiled weakly in return and shrugged, "Chocolate something?"

She spent the last two periods spinning her phone casually on the desk in front of her while pretending to pay attention. As usual, there were no calls or texts for Damon – no sign that anything was or had happened between them, and no sign that he was remotely interested in understanding the spell. She let out a quiet sigh as she watched Stefan reach across Elena's desk to scribble something in her notebook that she grinned at – Bonnie definitely picked the wrong vampire. Stefan would care. Stefan would want to know _why_ it hurt so much – why it hurt him, why it hurt her – why or how she could will herself to alleviate his misery – just _why_.

But she wasn't figuring out summoning spells with an intellectual, curious and somehow surprisingly considerate vampire. Bonnie was stuck with Damon. Ugh.

After school, Bonnie immediately started flipping through the grimoire and trying to use the vague instructions to decipher what had happened between her and Damon when something clicked. She furrowed her brow, and glanced back from Emily's scrawled writing to her own journal where she had tried to record their conversation. _I am a gentleman, Miss Bennett_.

**BDBDBD**

Damon Salvatore had a skip in his step that would have appeared strange to anyone watching him hop up the porch stairs. He had been about to take a sip of alcohol with blood as the chaser, and was poised to make a snarky comment to Stefan about his choice in balloons when he heard Bonnie's call. He muttered a curse under his breath and put his drink down, making his way to the door with a quick wave at the confused Elena behind him.

By the time he got to the Bennett house, he was struggling to keep a big smile off of his face. His hands casually hanging from his pockets, he sprang up the porch steps with a charming smirk on his face, his brain racing with the images of the siren in her matching lace panties. But what he saw instead was enough to force a disbelieving laugh from his throat.

Fresh out of the shower and smelling of soap, Bonnie was dressed in plain yellow pyjama pants and a tank top, and was sitting cross-legged on a cushion on the floor just behind the door frame. Her hair was tied up in a bandana, and she had yellow fuzzy socks on her feet that made him think of Big Bird. She was pulling a spoon out of her mouth, and dipping it back into a jar of peanut butter when they made eye contact. But she was still glowing: she was still resonating that delicious bronze glow that made her seem to float like an ephemeral dream. He felt a sudden spike of anxiety and nerves, and realized quickly that that Bonnie was emanating them as well – he felt her emotions spill over and taint the air between them.

"Want some?" Bonnie offered with a smile, holding up a spoonful of peanut butter between them.

Damon shook his head and smirked at the simple but colourful picture she made as she took a bite herself. "Now you're not even trying."

Bonnie glanced up at him with the spoon half in her mouth and offered a faux-apologetic smile. "Sorry, I've had a busy day."

"Busy with what?" Damon asked, deciding to take a seat across from her. He leaned against the low porch railing, and spread his legs awkwardly before him. He was clearly uncomfortable, and his expression didn't hide it.

She laughed at him softly before replying: "More theories."

He looked at her sceptically, "Somehow I don't think I'm going to like these theories quite as much."

"You didn't seem to like the last one too much." Bonnie reminded him, more seriously than teasing.

Damon crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow in her at defiance. He was about to say something incredibly snarky and clever when she interrupted him."Why couldn't you even look at me earlier?"

"Earlier?" Damon furrowed his brow in mock confusion. "You'll have to be more specific?"

"Earlier when I was half naked, Damon." Bonnie said, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him for good measure.

Damon shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe a visual reminder would help?"

Bonnie shook her spoon at him accusingly, before laughing in annoyance and turning away from him. For a few moments, there was strange silence as he stared at her and she refused to stare back. "What is your problem?" he barked.

Bonnie replied with a smirk: "I refuse to look at you in this state."

Damon grinned, recognizing his own words. "Oh, really?"

"Yes." Bonnie said slyly, "I refuse to let you degrade yourself in this manner."

Damon wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Do I really sound like that?"

Bonnie laughed out loud. Her laughter was melodious – it was like she was laughing at him, with some secret knowledge twinkling behind her eyes – but it was so like a sweet song that he found himself grinning at her. "I was pretty surprised myself."

"Southern gentleman, you know." Damon shrugged with a smirk. "Pretending to care about your reputation and chastity and all that jazz."

"Right," Bonnie said, arching an eyebrow as if she was studying a specimen. Feeling a bit unnerved under her gaze, Damon studied the porch floor boards as if they were more than slabs of wood. When he didn't say anything, Bonnie spoke again – more frustrated this time, more curious about what he knew that he wasn't telling her. "Funny how you go from serial killer to southern gentleman so quickly."

Damon stilled at her words. When he looked up at her, his lips were pulled into a tight, angry line, and she could see his jaw set as he clenched his teeth. She forced herself to meet his eyes and saw them shimmer with tears. Angry at himself, Damon blinked them back. Failing that, he hung his head and brushed them away roughly before glaring up at her again.

When he looked up, Bonnie was standing too. She had an apologetic smile plastered on her face: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Damon scoffed at her and rolled his eyes. What was wrong with him? Every time she looked at him with those judgemental eyes, and that condescending self-righteous attitude he used to want to roll his eyes and prove her right – just for the ridiculous hell of it. But now he was so frustrated, so torn with guilt that he was actually tearing up in front of her? And she was _sorry_? Oh, he'd make her sorry. "Sorry for what? I don't care what you think about me."

"You care." Bonnie whispered. He was returning her earlier frustration with his own: it buzzed between them like the wings of a hummingbird – fragile, and fleeting and floating in backwards and forwards ebb without pause.

Damon shifted his weight awkwardly, but said nothing. As he stifled the angry emotion, he felt it slowly replaced with a new, soothing calm rushing towards him and gently receding like a wave against the shore. He let it leak into him; didn't struggle as it seeped into him through his skin: he absorbed her fierce caution with the emanating spools of bronze light.

"I'm sorry for calling you serial killer." She said gently. "You've killed, Damon; but you're not really a serial killer. And you're not maniacal, or deranged or a psychopath, either."

"You never called me a psychopath." Damon muttered, a bit embarrassed by her sincerity.

"Must have just been behind your back then." Bonnie said teasingly, flashing him a smile.

"Why do you apologize if you don't mean it?" He challenged her.

"I mean it." Bonnie said, although they both knew she was lying. He could almost taste the bitterness behind her words. He knew she was thinking of her Grams.

"I wasn't always like this, you know." Damon said after a few moments of silence, feeling the need to defend himself against her judgmental eyes. "I was a good guy."

Damon turned and walked to the porch steps. He sat comfortably there, and continued: "Okay, sure I wasn't much for social conventions and all that – but I played my part well." He looked over his shoulder to smirk at her nostalgically, "But could you really blame me? This is the confederate south I'm talking about."

Bonnie laughed at him, her eyes sparkling in amusement. She walked slowly to the porch steps, and sat on a stair above him, leaning against the opposite stair railing and continued smiling at him, waiting for him to continue. "Tell me about it."

Damon struggled not to stare at her - to be content with the image of the bronze star humming her sweet light in his peripheral vision. "There's not much to tell."

"Really?" Bonnie arched a sceptical, unimpressed brow. "The whole vampire invasion; all the intrigue with the founders, and the Katherine love triangle business, and there's nothing to tell? The civil war?"

"Ha!" Damon exclaimed with a mischievous grin. "I was a Confederate soldier. So you see, Bennett, I was a killer even then."

Bonnie made a mock disgusted face. "Of course you'd fight for the evil, slave-owning side."

Damon laughed. "It had to be done. You know, family honour and all." He was silent for a minute, fidgeting nervously with his hands. That nervous anxiety Bonnie had been emitting earlier seemed to have transferred to him. He shifted his weight to keep his leg from shaking, and rubbed his clammy palms against the sides of his jeans. Leaning backwards against the step, he looked up at Bonnie in an effort to appear charming and in control. "To be honest, I was strong-armed into it by my father. I didn't want to fight."

"I know what that feels like." Bonnie quipped. The strange give and take between them left her feeling as lost as she had the night before: they didn't approach and retreat alternatively – they seemed to move in synchronization, weaving and wafting between and through each other until there was no way to easily snap the connection between them. She felt sparks starting to light up between them from the friction of the invisible cords – or at least, she thought that gentle, teasing warmth was a product of the sparks and not the other way around.

"He was a vampire-hunter," Damon grinned up at her. "He really hated them. Man, when he found out about Katherine," he paused to let out a cruel laugh. "Guess I really disappointed him in the end."

Bonnie nudged Damon's leg in an awkward gesture of comforting companionship. "He sounds like a douche bag."

Damon laughed, but said nothing. Her bronze glow had expanded so that it was touching him – tingeing the air around him with a sweet, citrusy taste. He licked his lips and turned his body towards her to better receive the gentle firefly light as it warmed his body. The tug at his chest was still there, making him want to move towards her – want to grab her arm and pull her over him. The lights of her skin, her eyes, her lips – it was all calling to him, craving him, beckoning him with wisps of light that curled in a come-hither pose before retreating with a splash into the bronze glow. He couldn't tell where his desire for her ended, and the spell that called to him began – couldn't figure out which came first, or why it mattered. All Damon knew was that in this sweet moment, he was tangled up in her: he was so tangled up in the marionette strings that attached him to Bonnie Bennett, that any attempt to detach himself would injure them both.

"What about Stefan?" Bonnie changed the subject, sensing his discomfort in talking about himself. "What was he like as a human?"

"Spoiled brat." Damon said without thinking. "Everyone's favourite; the golden boy of the Salvatore family." Damon rolled his eyes in annoyance, "Pretty much the same as he is now, except with a few less brooding lines on his forehead. Oh, and he was a lot less into small, woodland creatures."

Bonnie laughed. "What about your mom?"

"Are you writing a history paper or something?" Damon snapped at her. "Why the sudden interest in my past?" He closed the distance between them, placing his face dangerously close to hers. He was immersed in the bronze glow, his eyes widening and narrowing in that creepy, homicidal way again. But Bonnie stood her ground, unfazed.

"Damon, this is a summoning spell." She explained slowly. "As in, it wakes the dead. And yet, I've been calling you for weeks now; and each time, that little switch you're so proud of seems to malfunction and all these emotions keep rushing back. Don't you see what that means?"

Damon could've sworn he heard his own heart beating in time with the sound of her voice. He focused on listening to it; focused on smelling her blood over the somehow overwhelming scent of peanut butter that danced on her breath. But there was nothing: there was just the bronze glow that started to tinge with a soft pink as she blushed nervously under his unflinching gaze. "What?" He asked without thinking.

Bonnie focused her eyes on him, careful not to challenge or threaten the tense vampire whose glare on her hadn't faltered once. She clenched her fists in preparation, and silently prepared herself for any necessary defensive tactics. He barked again: "What!"

"You're human." She blurted out, and braced herself for his reaction.


	6. i am feeling it all

**AN: The next chapter, as promised! The song that Bonnie sings as part of the summoning spell is the one that inspired it all: 'I'm in Here' by Sia (highly recommended!). The song at the party is You by Evanescence. I hope you like it! Thanks again for the reviews; they help me come up with new ideas and keep me going!**

"What?" He repeated – except this time, his voice was weak and fearful – like a man who had truly been betrayed. "What have you done to me?"

"I haven't done anything." Bonnie shook her head at him as he crumpled back against the stairs with an ironic and sad smile hovering above his lips. "Not on purpose."

Damon sat lifelessly on her porch, staring into the distance. "How do you know?"

"_Think_ about it Damon." Bonnie insisted. "You're dead. You're half-dead. You're the living dead, whatever! Any part of you that isn't alive – the spell is calling it. Any part of you that feels what I feel, the spell is calling it. As long as we're in this –this weird summoning moment – your personality is totally _human_."

"What you feel," Damon scoffed, rolling his eyes. What was this witch talking about? His heart wasn't beating, his fangs were still waiting to protrude.

"Besides, I can feel it." Bonnie whispered. She moved closer to him – she felt she had done him some terrible wrong, and needed to make amends. She felt heavy with his resigned fear, with his angry amusement at being rendered powerless.

"I can't smell you." Damon said, without explanation. He smirked to himself and hung his head. He felt like he had the day he found out Katherine didn't love him; had just compelled him – was trying to control him for her own amusement. He felt like he'd felt before the raging, murderous anger hit him wave after wave: he felt defeated.

"I can _feel_ your feelings, Damon." Bonnie continued, as if she was trying to persuade him or win him over. She felt a nauseating anxiety start to knot up and build in her chest. Something desperate was clawing at her, making her _need_ to make everything okay for him. "They're human feelings. They have to be. They're just like mine. You feel it too, don't you? Like we're – like we're connected, or something?"

"I don't have feelings, witch. Don't project your emo-issues onto me."

"You _do, _Damon." Bonnie insisted, forcing eye contact. "You _must_. It can't just be me. I can't be alone in this." When she was near him, when she touched him – didn't he feel it? Didn't he sense that his pain was being lessened by her presence, that she was taking the burden from his shoulders onto her own?

Damon shook his head, and pressed his lips into a thin, unreadable line. When he looked at her, Bonnie felt a sudden chill shoot up her spine. He wasn't looking at her like the man she had been talking to on her front porch on a cool evening – he was looking at her like a vampire looks at his prey. He was seconds away from snarling at her, she was sure. He stood up quickly and pushed himself away from the porch in one smooth movement.

"You are alone. Next time, leave me out of your desperate attempts to have a friend, freak."

And with that he was gone – disappearing into the fog, and taking with him that invisible cord. It tightened around Bonnie's heart and lungs like a noose. She stood up angrily and made her way inside her house, locking her door and collapsing against it. Once again, Bonnie was all alone.

**BDBDBD**

Damon stalked through the high school halls in morose determination. He slammed his fist into the locker beside Elena and Caroline as they stood chatting about something superficial and juvenile. Elena jumped slightly, turning to look at him in confusion as Caroline – who'd heard him coming with complete disinterest – continued talking about a red dress.

"Where is Bonnie?" Damon growled, deliberately focusing his eyes on Elena and refusing to pay head to the blonde vampire's annoyed pout.

"Damon, are you ok?" Elena asked, fidgeting under his intense gaze and clutching her vervaine necklace self consciously.

"Where is she?" He repeated slower, as if she didn't understand him.

"I'm here." Bonnie said, putting her hand comfortingly on Elena's shoulder. She had been sitting in the school library when she felt the sharp, twisting tug at her stomach begin to go slack. She hadn't been able to sleep as she felt Damon getting further, like he was deliberately trying to break the invisible cord between them. The sick feeling was heart wrenching, and every second she thought it couldn't get worse – he must stop soon – he would prove her wrong.

Damon almost broke into a smile despite his defeat when he saw the teenage witch look at him curiously from behind her best friends. He nodded his head in the direction of the parking lots and left without look back, knowing by the tug at his chest that she was following close behind. When he turned to look at her, she resonated bronze light again and lacing the air with the taste of her magic.

"What took you so long?" She cried, ready to punch him in the arm.

"Just end it." Damon whispered roughly. He took a step closer to her. "And be quiet, Stefan is listening."

"I'm not sure how." Bonnie admitted in a similarly hushed tone.

"Touch me." Damon reached for her hand and she pulled back.

"What?"

"Touch me." Damon insisted. "Just do it."

"No!" Bonnie made a face of disgust, and Damon growled angrily in return.

"Touch me, or I'll end you."

"You wouldn't." Bonnie said casually, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms and challenged him: "I'm not touching you until you admit the truth."

Damon growled again, and came even closer. His head hung so that his was speaking directly into her ear. When Bonnie shivered at the sensation of his icy breath on her skin, Damon smirked in pleasure. "What's the truth?"

"That you feel something." Bonnie said. "That I'm not alone in this."

"Fine." He said through gritted teeth. He raised one hand to hover over her jaw line, preparing to see her flinch. When she stood her ground, he continued. "I felt something. I don't like it."

"What do you feel?" Bonnie pressed. "You know, for... experimental purposes."

"Miserable." He admitted. His hand dropped to his side. "I feel like shit. Everything I've done in the past hundred and seventy years you'd disapprove of – I feel all of it. And no matter how far I go, how much I drink, or how many hot blondes I do – this damn spell won't let me go!"

Bonnie grinned, and her glow trembled with her laughter – sparkled with her joy. "I knew it! _Ha_!"

"Stop smiling!" Damon warned, but he too felt amused by the teasingly smug victory that danced in her eyes. "What about you? You seem surprisingly happy to see me."

"I'm not." Bonnie lied, clearing her throat and forcing a serious expression on her face.

"You thought you killed me, didn't you." He deadpanned.

"No!" She laughed. "I think the spell has... weird side effects, that's all."

Damon smiled seductively, "Increased libido?"

"Eww, no!" Bonnie laughed again and tinged her bronze glow with a beautiful blue.

"Hey, no judgment." He made a very serious, concerned face. "Gas?"

"Damon."

"Well, what then?" He muttered.

"You know," She whined, gesturing at the space between them. "_This_."

"This?" Damon arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"When you're gone," Bonnie forced the words out, "_This_... well it kind of hurts, you know?"

A smile spread slowly across Damon's face. He looked down at her smugly. "You missed me."

"What? No, no, no." Bonnie said, "_I_ didn't miss you. It's the spell."

"Yeah, uh-huh." Damon said, letting his breath tickle her ears again. "You missed me."

"Infuriating." Bonnie repeated, biting her cheek to keep from smiling. She took a small step away from him to force eye contact, and wasn't surprised to see a self-satisfied smile on his face or a somehow sexy glint of supreme confidence in his blue eyes.

"You love it." He grinned, bracing himself for a snarky comeback when she just laughed and smiled at him in reply. He extended his arms and gestured for her to walk into his embrace. "So, hug?"

Bonnie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Really? I have to hug you?"

"I won't grab your ass." Damon said, feigning offense. "Platonic, non-sexual hug?"

"This will break the spell?" Bonnie asked, tentatively.

"I think so." Damon said. "When we touch, it—"

"It feels good." Bonnie conceded.

Damon grinned again. "I was just going to say, the annoying human limitations disappear – but sure, we'll go with yours."

Bonnie blushed, spilling bright pink into her bronze light. Damon licked his lips in anticipation of tasting that dazzling glow on his lips. She stepped forward quickly into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. He felt her heated glow dissipate around him and almost sink into his skin: her pink light tasted of sweet strawberries laced with tangy oranges. He growled in appreciation, pulling her more tightly against him.

Bonnie let out a gleeful laugh as she felt the tension fade from her body. The knot of anxiety disappeared; the fear, the confusion and the loneliness – all the unhappy feelings distance from Damon had brought melted away in their skin to skin contact. Damon lifted her off the ground, and she flexed her arms, falling into the airborne hug and pressing her cheek against his neck. He spun her around once, twice – and when he set her down she realized: they were completely surrounded by thick grey fog.

"You did this?" Bonnie asked, looking around. The fog swirled around them slowly like – well, like magic.

"Pretending to care about your reputation and chastity and such, remember?" Damon reminded her. She didn't need to know that he didn't want Elena's to see the exchange; that he didn't want the whole school to see how she glowed.

"Ugh," Damon said, stumbling backwards and shielding his face from her view. "Go away, Bonnie."

"Damon, what's going on?" Bonnie stepped closer to him, cautiously.

"Go away, Bonnie!" He yelled at her.

She stepped closer anyway, waving the fog from in front of her face. When the view cleared she saw him tower over him, his face dark and vampiric, his hands fisted at his sides as he tried to control the cravings. Her blood: her sweet, tangy, delicious blood was singing to him in the most siren of melodies. It was like the spell dulled his vampire senses, and the minute he touched her – they were back in full force: strength proportionate to the amount of time he was caught waiting for her touch to end the summons. And now here she was – no barriers between them, no one to see them through the fog – and she was so close, so deliciously close as her green eyes sparkled up at him with amusement.

"Oh, Damon," Bonnie said, reaching into her purse quickly for a handful of dust and blowing it in his direction. Hit, he fell immediately to the ground paralyzed. "You think I saved that little paralysis spell just for Katherine? You should know by now – I come prepared."

She walked backwards away from him, keeping her eye on the fallen form. "I'll call you later!"

**BDBDBD**

"You play dirty." Damon narrowed his eyes. "But impressively."

Bonnie tilted her head playfully, tapping her chin with her pen. "I thought you liked it dirty."

"You know me well," He smirked. He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned against her door frame. She had called him shortly after midnight – on his cell phone this time.

Bonnie smiled as she mirrored his stance from just behind the door frame. "Know thy enemy, right?"

_Enemy_. "What did you want to talk about, exactly?"

"What was that?" Bonnie asked. "I mean, as far as I can tell, from the time I call you to the time we... touch, or whatever," she muttered the last few words in a rush before clearing her throat, "your human emotions are alive and well. And then – after?"

"I'm a vampire." Damon stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. When Bonnie arched an eyebrow and nodded for him to continue he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I'm a vampire who hasn't smelled blood or _fed_ for the entire time you had me wrapped up in your stupid spell. I'm _hungry_."

"Can't you control that?" Bonnie asked, furrowing her brow. It's like she was talking to a petulant child. "Are you going to try to kill me whenever we touch?"

"Are we going to be touching often enough for you to worry about that?" He challenged.

"I don't know." Bonnie snapped. "Can you control it or not?"

"Of course I can." Damon grunted. "Just don't wait so long to feel me up next time."

"Ugh." Bonnie fought back amusement, "Please, let's not call it that."

Damon grinned. "Your spell isn't really bringing me "back from the dead", or whatever. I'm not a zombie."

"Zombies, vampires, what's the difference?" Bonnie shrugged. "The point is, my spell is awesome. I can summon good Damon from the dead." She resisted an urge to pinch his cheeks to emphasize her condescension.

"You think I'm good?" He asked, suddenly, trying to read her eyes.

Bonnie looked away. "You have your moments."

"So what does this mean for your big spell?"

"My big spell?" Bonnie was genuinely confused.

"I know my devilishly handsome charm distracts you little girls," Damon said, enjoying being able to smell her tangy blood and hear her boring, human pulse without it having any extraordinary effect on him. "But have you forgotten about your Grams?"

"Oh!" Bonnie said. She had forgotten. It just never worked! And this was so much more... interesting. "I'll try her again next week."

"Why the wait? Let's try tonight." Damon pushed. "Love to hear your little zombie quips then."

Bonnie frowned. "Not funny."

"Hey," Damon raised his hands defensively. "I'm not the one who forgot all about her the minute a pretty face walked by."

"I didn't forget about her." Bonnie said. "I just haven't..." _needed her anymore._ "I've been too busy with you."

"Exactly." Damon said. "Sexy vampire beats zombie grandma every day."

"Shut up, Damon." Bonnie warned with a frown. "I'm not above lighting you up."

"Not that I'm up for a little Bon-fire," Damon muttered, "But why exactly are you calling her in the first place? What happened to "rest in peace"?"

Bonnie looked at him like he was stupid. There was the self righteous witch that he knew. "I miss her."

"So? I missed Katherine." Damon shrugged, letting a grin spread across his face. "Okay, bad example."

"Terrible example," Bonnie smiled. "You wouldn't get it."

Damon frowned. "Know thy enemy."

Bonnie looked up at him quizzically as he began to hum. Her breath caught as she recognized the tune, as he started to sing the words of her spell lowly: "_Can you hear my call? Are you coming to get me now? I've been waiting for you to come asking me; I need you to hold all the sadness I cannot live with inside of me._"

"You heard all that?" Bonnie sighed after a moment. She could feel him studying her expression, and she forced a blank expression. "You're a terrible singer."

Damon grinned. "You're not."

"My audience of one." She agreed with a yawn. "It's late. I'm tired. I didn't get much sleep – some asshole was torturing me with his childish games."

"Kinky." Damon winked, as he pushed off of the door frame. "Good night, Bonnie."

"Good night, Damon," She smiled. He watched her close the door shut before he made his way back to the Boarding House. As she retired to bed that night, a comfortable non-spell induced smile spreading across her face, Bonnie didn't feel quite so alone.

**BDBDBD**

The next evening, the Boarding House was abuzz with nauseating teenage glee. Stefan had indeed hung his bright pink balloons in the living room, and there were delicious snacks spread out throughout the room – and not just the teenage girls giggling in their short skirts. There was music too, of the unbearably upbeat or obnoxiously sexy kind. Damon frowned, he liked to be the only obnoxiously sexy thing in the room – or was he sexily obnoxious? Either way, the music sucked.

"Damon." Caroline nodded in acknowledgment as she stood next to him. He kept an eye trained steadily on her 'date' as he plastered a fake half-smile on his face in response.

"Hello, Caroline. I see you brought your new pet."

"Tyler isn't looking for trouble." Caroline said on a shaky breath. She didn't trust him. He didn't blame her. He offered another fake smile at another nameless teen as she continued. "It would've been suspicious if he didn't come. He's known Bonnie since we were kids. Besides, I didn't know you'd be here."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Damon turned to face her. "Who else is going to buy the alcohol?"

"First, that's what compulsion's for." Caroline said, proud of herself and her newfound tricks. "Second, why would you be here? Bonnie hates you."

Damon frowned. He was about to reply when he heard the guest of honour make her way inside. Caroline must have heard her too because she hurried to the door – well, walked incredibly slowly in mock-human mode if you consider what she's really capable of.

"Damon's here." He heard Elena whisper apologetically in the foyer. "He's been MIA so much lately, I didn't think he'd show up."

"I tried to get him to leave." Stefan said, knowing Damon could hear. "You know Damon – he's impossible."

"It's alright." Bonnie replied in her normal speaking voice. "Everything looks amazing."

"We try." Stefan and Elena said at the same time. Damon rolled his eyes – he could practically see the mushy scene unfolding before Bonnie. If only she had been calling Stefan – that would've left a tearful Elena nothing but himself for comfort. He took a sip of his drink – maybe he'd talk her into that next time; pass it off as a new "theory" or something.

"You look amazing!" Caroline exclaimed. She held her hand and led her into the next room.

Hearing their footsteps, Damon trained his eyes to look everywhere but at the witch although he could hear her heartbeat nervously pick up as she got closer. The room exploded in a chorus of "Happy Birthday, Bonnie!" as her happy laughter wafted through the air. He turned his head to offer her a tight smile in greeting, and was momentarily stricken by what he saw.

Bonnie was stunning. She wasn't lit up with a bronze glow, but her eyes were still sparkling like emeralds as Tyler handed her a small box and wished her happy birthday with a kiss on the cheek. She was in a strapless red dress, her hair tied up in a pony tail that revealed the delicious length of her throat, and that melodic pulse point – and those angled collar bones. This is the girl "good Damon" didn't want to see naked? What a loser. He took a sip of his alcohol, and kept his eyes focused on her – waiting for her to turn to him and smile; waiting for her to greet him enthusiastically. But she didn't. Instead, she made her way to the center of the room to join the crowd.

"You're drooling." Stefan said, clapping his hand over his brother's shoulder. Damon's mouth snapped shut. He turned to Stefan with a wicked grin, "She looks delicious."

"Stop it, Damon." Stefan warned. "Let her have this night."

"Why?" Damon challenged. "She hates me, remember."

"For Elena?" Stefan muttered under his breath. He hated using his girlfriend to control his psychopath brother. But Damon had been so unpredictable lately – and it really meant a lot to Elena to give Bonnie a night of normalness – that he took the easy way out.

"Anything for Elena." Damon said, taking a sip from his drink, and giving his brother a strained, insincere smile.

Bonnie hadn't laughed so freely in ages. She appreciated the few presents she received from her closest friends, and was truly touched by the effort they'd made. She even liked the hot pink balloons that seemed so out of place in the room. When they brought out her birthday cake, she'd blown out the candles without them spiking to unnatural heights. She was in such a good mood that when the music started, she accepted Jeremy's request for a slow dance.

Damon was less impressed. He sat in a corner, watching the teenagers like an annoying chaperone. Whatever girls approached him in their giggling, tipsy glory, he dismissed with a simple compulsion. He was staring at Jeremy's ring, willing it to fall and wondering if he could snap his juvenile neck in the time it took for him to slip it back on – when Elena's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Damon, are you ok?" Elena rested a hand on his shoulder. "You've been acting strange lately. And now you're at Bonnie's birthday party. You don't like Bonnie."

"I don't?" Damon said, more a question but letting it pass as a statement when Elena continued.

"I'm worried about you." Elena frowned. Damon leaned back in his chair. He watched Stefan watch them from across the room – certain that he was training his ears to hear their conversation. No trust, brother.

"You are?" Damon pretended to be touched. He turned to face her as she rattled off a speech about how she just wanted him to be happy.

Bonnie was in a generous mood, so she decided to thank Jeremy for the dance with a quick kiss to his cheek. The kid turned bright red, and she felt her mood spike to a flattered happiness. Before he could say anything, Caroline rushed in, pulling Stefan behind her. "Next!" She proclaimed. "You have to dance with all the boys. Well, except Tyler." She smiled apologetically. "Sorry, but I can't share everything."

"And Elena can?" Bonnie laughed as Stefan took her hand. He smiled at her, "I think Elena is well occupied."

Bonnie followed his eyes to where Elena seemed to be consoling Damon about something. She scoffed, "He never quits, does he?"

"Has the Katherine drama taught you nothing?" Stefan joked.

"Excellent point." Bonnie grinned. The music switched to a slow song, and he pulled her into a casual embrace. With his hand on her lower back, he guided her across the cleared living room floor like it actually was meant for dancing.

"So," Stefan said as he spun her out and pulled her back in, "How have you been lately?"

He was so serious – so sincere, so unlike his brother. "Good," Bonnie said. He didn't seem to believe her, so she changed the subject. "Stefan, what were you like as a human?"

Stefan laughed, taken aback. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." Bonnie said. "Were you like you are now?"

"How am I now?"

"You know," Bonnie smiled, "Kind and considerate."

Stefan laughed. "I don't know. I was like every other young man, I suppose."

"And so humble!" Bonnie replied.

Damon frowned at what he overheard from the dance floor. Elena saw him looking at Stefan and hopped to her feet. She extended a hand and smiled, "Dance?"

He grinned back, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the dance floor before the slow song ended. He spun her into his arms, and let his hander wander a little bit lower than was appropriate on her back. She didn't seem to notice, so he spun her happily in Stefan and Bonnie's general direction.

Elena was so easy to love. There was nothing complicated about her: she was simple, easy to decipher. She loved Stefan, and she didn't hide it – didn't toy with other guys. She loved her family, and she protected them – didn't care about her own safety, or about the dangers she walked blindly into. She was nothing like Bonnie: she didn't see through him – she didn't challenge him, or try to make him change – she didn't expect more of him than he was willing to give. In fact, she didn't seem to expect much from him at all. Damon frowned at that thought, and almost didn't notice Stefan interrupt their dance as the song ended. "May I cut in?"

"Yes." Elena said as Damon said "No."

Bonnie laughed at Damon as Elena and Stefan walked on to the dance floor. Caroline winked at her friend from across the room as she dimmed the lights, and skipped the music to a slow song. She pulled Tyler up to slow dance in less intricate, more intimate moves with their faces close together and whispering.

"Well?" Damon said, looking pointedly at the hand he extended between them. She rolled her eyes and put her hand in his.

_Dear my love, haven't you wanted to be with me?, _Amy Lee's voice sang from the iPod dock.

Damon put his hand on her lower back, and she moved it upwards with a cautioning look in her eye. He smirked at her, and held her gaze as they slipped into a simple dance. Bonnie let herself relax in his accustomed embrace, only fidgeting slightly at the idea that her friends might see her in the arms of a man she claimed to hate.

_I can't keep pretending I don't know you._

"Happy birthday." Bonnie said, mimicking Damon's voice. "Why, thank you, Damon. So sweet of you to remember." She arched an eyebrow at him and spoke lowly: "Of course, Bonnie. How could I forget your birthday when my living room is littered with pink balloons."

Damon grinned at her. "Happy birthday, Bonnie."

"Why, thank you, Damon." She smiled back. "Good of you to take your eyes off of Elena for a minute to remember."

"You're welcome." He said, ignoring the last bit. "Having fun?"

"Yes," Bonnie smiled, feeling a bit embarrassed under his concentrated gaze. He held eye contact and – for once – it wasn't challenging or mocking. They weren't icy blue or steely, either: they were teasing and playful, they were light and open. "Are you?"

"Elena's just so much fun." Damon said.

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Leave her alone, Damon."

"Hey, she talked to _me_."

"You don't have to talk back." Bonnie said. "It's called impulse control."

"Oh, and you weren't flirting with Stefan?" Damon challenged. There was the ice in his gaze. "Oh, Stefan," He said in falsetto while batting his eyelashes, "What were _you_ like as a human?"

Bonnie clenched her jaw. "You were eavesdropping?"

"Why are you so interested? Are you planning on calling him next?" Damon scoffed. "You're not better than me."

"I would never!" Bonnie said, digging her nails into his hand. "Elena's my friend; I'm not interested in Stefan."

"Jeremy, then." Damon said, baiting her.

"You're so jealous of Stefan," Bonnie said, ignoring his last comment deliberately. "You don't like Elena; you just like that she likes him. That's really creepy."

Damon frowned. "I'm not jealous of Stefan."

Bonnie stepped on his foot deliberately. "Then why do you care if I call him?"

"I don't," Damon insisted. "Actually, I'd love it if you called him instead of me. This being summoned shit gets old fast."

"Fine," Bonnie said, surprised at how hurt she was by his words. "I won't call you anymore." She was silent as the song continued: _So many nights I've cried myself to sleep_. "But I won't call Stefan either. I'm not _stupid_, Damon. I know you'd just love to have him distracted so you can have Elena all to yourself."

Damon gaped at her momentarily before frowning. Was he that transparent? He heard her heart pounding out a melodic rhapsody between her lungs; could see her luscious neck so elegantly exposed arching so she could better glare at him. She had stopped dancing. "I didn't realize it was such an inconvenience. Just forget I even cast the spell in the first place."

"Fine." Damon said, dropping her hands. He turned to walk away, and almost – almost turned back as a pang of guilt struck him when he heard her resigned whisper crack with the most beautiful sadness: "Fine."


	7. you can't just leave me

**AN: Here it is! Nice and long to make up for my absence. Thank you for all of the reviews, and favourites =) I really appreciate it. I was having a rough day, so I wrote this to cheer me up. I hope you like it as much as I do!**

There were things about Bonnie Bennett that Damon hadn't noticed the in the past year that, now that they had been brought to his attention, couldn't be forgotten by simply walking away and slamming a door in her face. After their dance had ended, Bonnie had found herself twirled into the arms of a certain werewolf while Caroline scowled at Damon from across the room. Her expression clearly said everything that he felt: good job, Damon – way to fuck things up yet again. He held her eye contact, took a sip of his drink, and disappeared into the night before he did something he would regret. Like apologize.

But even without the spell tugging at his gut, he found himself thinking of Bonnie at the oddest moments. When midnight came, he thought of her standing in a door way somewhere, beckoning him, calling out for him to come to her with a crooked finger and a sexy smirk. When Stefan and Elena's incessant chatter filled the house at night, he thought of the witch and their quiet moments on the porch as she glowed and smiled and laughed. He thought of the feeling of – well, of _feelings_. Feelings bubbling up and dancing in his chest – even the thought was enough to make him think his heart had taken to beating again. But it hadn't, he assured himself, with a quick tap of his hand over his chest. Even Stefan's coffee habit made him think of Bonnie and her caramel skin.

That's why, when Elena and Stefan stared at him in confusion, he had to pause to wonder what exactly he had done that was so odd. "What?" He barked at them.

"Since when do you eat oranges?" Elena asked, eyeing the fruit in his hand that he had been waving under his nose. Damon immediately let it fall to the ground.

"Eating? He was just... smelling it." Stefan added.

"I was hungry." Damon said pointedly, getting up from the couch to pour himself a drink.

"Do you think something's wrong with him?" Elena whispered to Stefan, as if Damon can't hear her.

"Nothing's wrong with me." He said, louder this time.

"Since when do you get hungry for oranges?" Stefan pressed. Damon could feel his little brother's eyes on his back, watching his every move.

_Since Bonnie's blood smells of citrus._ Damon turned sharply towards them with a smirk, and raised the glass to his mouth before he spoke: "Can't live 170 years and never try anything new, little brother."

"Somehow I don't think expanding you palette is your primary goal." Stefan pushed, his forehead creasing even more.

"You'd be surprised," Damon said innocently, "What strange _tastes_ I'm developing."

No, Damon couldn't stop thinking of Bonnie. Even when he wasn't consciously thinking _about_ her, he was thinking about her. Like – ok, when Caroline shoved him as she entered the Boarding House after the party to help Elena and Stefan tidy up – something felt so off. He was about to ask her to shove him again, so he could figure out what it was – what felt so empty, so unfulfilling about Caroline's scorn, when it hit him. It wasn't Bonnie's. And when Elena smiled at him – that dazzling, innocent smile that just made him want to beam a grin right back at her – he felt nothing. He wanted to fix her face – like it was a painting someone smudged, for surely people didn't smile like that – it was so ugly, so wanting compared to... well, compared to Bonnie's know-it-all condescending smirk.

It had only been two weeks when he caved, but he couldn't help it: the world without Bonnie inspired sensations that were just so much _less_. He couldn't explain it; it confused and frustrated him. But Damon wasn't one much for tedious things like thinking – he preferred to get right out there and supply the missing ingredient: a little bit of Bennett.

So he drove Stefan to school.

"What are you up to?" Stefan snapped, exasperated. "I've pretended to ignore your weird little mood swings the past couple weeks, but now you're just starting to worry me."

"Can't a guy just drive his little brother to school?" Damon said, feigning offense.

"Damon..." Stefan said, and he immediately hated the way his name sounded: like an annoyance, like something to be tolerated. It just made the memory of Bonnie's voice floating on the wind, calling his name like a sweet, sultry whisper in his air, all the more missed.

"Just shut up and let me drive." Damon said, his knuckles whitening at his grip on the wheel.

As he pulled into the parking lot, Damon glanced spotted Bonnie from his peripheral vision closing her car door behind her.

"Why are you staring at Bonnie?" Stefan asked worriedly, like the pesky moral compass he was. Damon's response was to speed up and stop short right before her. He was delighted at her surprised gasp and jump backwards – at her wide eyes and pursed lips as she realized who was behind the wheel. The oversized long sleeved shirt she wore slipped down her arm to reveal a bare, brown skinned shoulder curving invitingly into luscious neck. He licked his lips and thought of oranges.

"What the hell, Damon?" Stefan growled, getting out of the car in one swift move. "Bonnie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Bonnie said, regaining composure quickly. He had startled her – not so much with his presence; no – the heat Damon brought with him into any room wasn't something she could easily miss – but with how he chose to announce it. She forced a smile, and made direct eye contact with Stefan. "Not driving today?"

"Apparently not." Stefan replied with a smile. "I apologize for him."

"No, no, no. I was doing her a favour." Damon explained. "Bonnie likes hanging out with dead people. Don't you, Bonnie?"

Bonnie knew his eyes were doing that _thing_ they do – that wide, wild and crazy thing where his eye brows jumped up and narrowed – where he focused so intently on you that you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks even though youknew he was as like to kiss you as kill you. She refused to make eye contact with him, and kept her eyes trained on Stefan's brooding face. "I like hanging out with Stefan."

Stefan smiled, and Damon's face fell into a scowl. "I'm only _sort of_ dead," Stefan faux-whispered. To Damon's annoyance, Bonnie actually smiled up at him in response: "Good thing I was only _sort of_ almost killed then."

"I can take care of that 'sort of almost' for you, you know." Damon said, revving the motor. Stefan held a hand out as if he could stop Damon from getting his witch.

"Let's go to class," Bonnie said, tugging on Stefan's sleeve. He nodded, but kept his eyes trained on Damon as they made their way in.

Damon growled as he watched them walk into the school. Bonnie didn't seem irked at all by his presence – where was the sweet girl who had been expecting him to arrive even earlier just weeks before? Where was the naked girl in the door way? Maybe she really had given up their escapades for the safety of Stefan Salvatore. The thought of Bonnie deliberately trying to inspire in Stefan the bubbling glee that she had in him made Damon feel as broody as he accused his brother of being. Stefan didn't deserve it! Even worse, Stefan would _love_ the buzz of being human. He'd be addicted after just one summons and then he'd never get rid of the pesky junky brat.

He frowned to himself and threw one last look at the trio and caught sight of an image that immediately smoothed the wrinkles from his forehead. As she walked into the school, Bonnie threw Damon a quick scowl over her bare shoulder – her challenging arched brow, her pursed lips, her smug and superior tilt of head – there it was: the delicious irritation he had craved.

She had set his shirt sleeve on fire. So nice to know she still cared.

**BDBDBDBDBD**

Bonnie hadn't had a chance to feel lonely without Damon after her party since her father had returned home for two weeks. But since he was leaving tonight, she knew she would have to make an effort to get out of the house to keep the demons from coming to her. Well, the demon. But it was a struggle, to say the least, to make an attempt at socializing with the weakness she had been feeling lately.

When Damon attempted to run her over, she had almost – for a second – felt grateful. She could feel the exhaustion draining her body even now as she tied her hair into a messy bun and clipped it into place. She took a steadying breath, and tried to ignore the slight shake of her hands as she spritzed herself with Elena's perfume.

"Ok," Caroline said, concentrating on getting the perfect curl the ends of Elena's hair. "Are you sure this look isn't too – well, psycho bitch?"

"Elena is incapable of 'psycho bitch'," Bonnie laughed, turning to face her friends. "Why should she not enjoy her hair because of Katherine?"

"I mean," Caroline clarified, "What will Stefan think?"

"What would Damon think?" Bonnie muttered under her breath.

"He'll like it," Elena said, smiling at her reflection. She might have had a small curl to her hair, but her look was light and girlish enough to avoid being confused with Katherine. "Because it's me."

Bonnie offered her friend a smile, but said nothing. On one hand, she was happy for Elena and Stefan and their sweet and simple love, but on the other – she would be mad as hell if they were to just break up and move on after it had cost her _so_ much.

At the Mystic Grille, they were joined by Stefan and Tyler who squeezed into the booth beside their respective girlfriends. Stuffed in a corner beside Caroline and opposite Elena, Bonnie sat in relative silence – but even that was better than the temptation to summon a certain vampire. As soon as she thought his name – _Damon_ – she felt the air in the room shift. She looked up before she could help herself and saw him strolling into the Mystic Grille nonchalantly. He was twirling something in his fingers and, as he got a drink on the bar, pivoted on the stool to look around the place. She could've sworn he was looking for her, but the surprise on his face – the slow smirk that spread to light up his eyes, proved her wrong.

"So, Stefan," Caroline was saying as she cleared her throat. "Do you like Elena's hair?"

"I do," came a suggestive voice from behind him. Caroline and Elena glanced up to see Damon crossing his arms at the front of the table, examining the little motley crew. "But then again, I've always been partial to curls."

"A little too partial." Bonnie muttered, rolling her eyes. No one seemed to hear her, but she noticed a small smile tug at Stefan's lips.

"Tyler," Caroline said as she kept her eyes on Damon, "How about that game of pool?"

"Sure," He said, sliding out of the booth. They made their way to the pool table and – before Bonnie could excuse herself as well – Damon took their place in the booth. He leaned forward and offered the couple a fake smile. "So, how's everyone's favourite couple?"

"We're good." Elena said, cautiously as Stefan said, irritated: "What do you want, Damon?"

"Nothing!" Damon said. He rested his elbows on the table, and Bonnie could see he was twirling a flower with big petals by the stem. "Well, nothing from you two anyway."

Damon turned to face Bonnie with a smile, and her eyes widened in surprise at his sudden directness. She instinctively tried to back away, as if there was a barrier she could hide behind or a door to slam in his face, but she came up with nothing but the corner of the booth. Stefan said something in her defence from the other side of the table, but she couldn't register it over the way that Damon was looking at her.

He caught and forced eye contact in the most subtle of ways, in such a short space of time. The minute their eyes met, they were hooked: like two magnets both repelled and attracted to each other with equal force. The pull was that strong – the repulsion that strong: something so undeniable and deep within her had her hypnotized by the sight of him watching her. She hoped she wasn't trembling under his gaze.

Damon reached up with the flower and slid it very slowly behind Bonnie's ear. She leaned slightly – imperceptible, he was sure, to anyone not in such close proximity – into his touch against her temple. At first, he couldn't smell her at first under the heavy, heady perfume: he smelled Elena. And where there is Elena, there is bound to be the trail that leads him to his witch. He could smell the sweet hum of her blood under the perfume, and took a very deep breath to savour the scent he had been craving.

Being near Bonnie was the most excruciating, seductive joy he had ever felt. The scent of her blood, dulled by perfume, made it slightly more bearable, but even that couldn't compete with the sight of her slender neck, and the hum of her pulse as his breath hit her skin. He licked his lips as his eyes fell over the image she made: lips slightly parted in surprise, eyes wide and studying him intently. If only she wasn't leaning away – if only she was rushing to touch him, to place her warm and gentle hands against his skin and soothe his pain into overwhelming desire.

There was something strange about being near Damon like this. Bonnie didn't feel the strong desire to be beside him that she did when the spell was on. She didn't feel the urge to sooth any pain he felt – to grab his hand, or wrap her arms around him – but she felt the bubbling glee threatening to burst a blush all over her face. She trained her face into one of suspicion, and saw Damon's expression change. He slowly backed out of the booth with a quizzical look in his eyes. "Thanks for the flower." Bonnie muttered, fingering it herself, and moving to secure it with a bobby pin. "What do you think, Elena?"

She turned to her friend, who was gaping at the scene she just saw. Stefan didn't take his cautious eyes off of Damon. He seemed ready to pounce – ready to rip Damon off of Bonnie should he go one step too far. "Don't worry," Bonnie joked, "It's probably poisoned."

Damon smiled softly at Bonnie: "You're right. It is."

Elena reached to grab the flower, but Bonnie waved her concern off with a roll of her eyes. "Sure it is."

"Are you done?" Stefan said, the tone of warning in his voice too obvious to miss.

"Call me." Damon nodded at Bonnie with a wink. And as suddenly as he arrived, he was gone.

"What was that?" Elena demanded. "First school, and now this!"

"Don't ask me!" Bonnie said, defensively.

"What happened at school?" Stefan said. "Did I miss something?"

"Damon showed up looking for _her_." Elena said pointedly, "And she just went with him – no questions asked."

Stefan looked at Bonnie and waited for an answer. Elena's eyes shot accusations at her – for a minute it almost did seem like she was sitting opposite Katherine. "What! Why don't you ask Damon?"

Stefan shook his head. "I don't know what he's thinking. He's been acting so strange lately. Smelling oranges."

"Oranges?" Bonnie couldn't help but laugh. "What is that about?"

"You don't know?" Stefan said.

"No..." Bonnie said, waiting for him to fill her in. Elena placed her hand on Stefan's arm, and took the lead: "Bonnie, we caught him smelling oranges the other day. Then, after he tried to run you over at school, Stefan put two and two together. You smell like oranges."

"I _what?_" Bonnie laughed. "How do I smell like oranges?"

"Your blood." Caroline said, taking her seat at the table. She nodded at Tyler at the bar, getting them drinks so they knew it was safe to talk. "Your blood smells kind of... citrusy."

"It does?" Bonnie frowned. "Like oranges?"

"Not really like _oranges_," Stefan said, "But definitely... tangy."

"Like a sweet tangy." Caroline nodded. "Like strawberries?"

Stefan shrugged. "Sweet oranges."

"Ok, stop it!" Bonnie yelled. She looked at them wide eyed and obviously freaked out. She lowered her voice, "Can you please realize how unnerving it is to have two vampires chat about how delicious my blood is?"

Caroline laughed, and looked over at Tyler. "Bonnie, you're not my type. My tastes are set somewhere else."

Stefan slung his arm around Elena. "You know I'm not a threat." He didn't want to reveal the truth – knew Caroline didn't know enough about being a vampire to figure it out yet: that the blood of the one you are the most drawn to is the blood that is the most overwhelmingly delicious. _You'd be surprised what strange tastes I'm developing._

"I know," Bonnie forced a smile, "I trust you two. It's Damon who takes getting lit up as an invitation."

"Why is he so interested in you?" Elena asked, more to herself. Stefan and Caroline exchanged a small smile as Bonnie shrugged defensively. She didn't know the pull she had – as a human or a witch.

"Oooh!" Caroline exclaimed, putting her finger under Bonnie's chin and turning her to face her. "That flower is lovely!"

"Ugh," Bonnie muttered, taking it from behind her ear. She tossed it on the table. "You take it then. It's _poisoned_." She said the last word with such sarcasm that even Elena had to laugh.

"Don't mind if I do," Caroline said, reaching for it. But when she touched it, she had to drop it immediately: the pain was too much for a new vamp, so unaccustomed to the dangers that lay before her. She let out a small cry of pain, and squeezed her hand shut. She looked at Bonnie for an explanation, but her mouth was agape in as much surprise.

Stefan answered with an impressed smirk. "Vervaine. It's laced with it."

"How could he touch it if it's laced with vervaine?" Elena pointed out. "Damon seemed fine."

"Maybe he just bore the pain." Stefan said. "Maybe the stem isn't laced with it. I'm not really sure."

Bonnie frowned when Elena turned to look at her. Now she was annoyed: "How am I supposed to know what he's up to? You're his best friend."

"Apparently not." Elena shot back, challengingly. "Apparently I'm not yours either, or you'd tell me what's going on."

"What's going on?" Tyler said, looking at the aggravated table.

"Nothing." Caroline smiled sweetly, motioning for him to join her. She scooted over, pressing Bonnie deeper into the corner of the booth. But Bonnie didn't mind: she wouldn't mind disappearing entirely from their scrutiny. The only place she'd get answers anyway, was from the mischief maker himself.

Tyler reached out for the flower on the table, "Did he leave this?" But the second he touched it, he let out a cry of pain that shocked everyone. The waiters and other patrons turned to look at the table, and only Stefan had enough composure to wave them off and say that it was nothing.

Caroline cradled Tyler's blood-spotted fingers in her hands and scooted him out of the booth. Stefan kept a careful eye on her as she dabbed at it with a napkin, and wrapped it around to stem the bleeding. She turned her face away from Tyler, and Bonnie could see her fighting back the vampiric transformation that his blood was tempting her to. "It's okay," He said quietly, letting the napkin fall to the floor. "Caroline, I'm fine." He waved his hand in front of her – supernatural healing.

She let out a stifled sob and wrapped her arms around him. He patted her back in the deep understanding they seemed to share. Elena stole a glance at Stefan who had let a small smile creep onto his face. But when Bonnie rest a hand on Caroline's back she turned around and glared accusingly.

Tyler took her hand and led her out of the booth. "I think it's time I take Caroline home."

Everyone nodded and said their goodbyes. When they were gone, Elena whispered, "Wolf's bane? Why would Damon poison it with wolf's bane?"

"Guess he doesn't want anyone near you." Stefan said, studying Bonnie's reaction. She set her lips and narrowed her eyes at the flower. She picked it up and tucked it behind her ear – just in case. "I'm not like him, okay?" Bonnie said, frustrated. "I just wanted to have fun – with all of you. I didn't want this."

Stefan nodded, ready to let it go. But Elena had to press once more: "But why is he doing this to you?"

"I don't know." Bonnie frowned. "_I_ don't pretend to understand the mind of a homicidal psychopath." _Unlike _some _people at this table..._

**BDBDBD**

_Now that I know what I'm without, you can't just _leave _me. Breathe into me, and make me real._

Plans were not slow to come to Damon Salvatore. New ways to play with people – new ways to amuse himself in his long life – were always more of a fun challenge that he could end with a quick compulsion or snapping neck if he didn't like the conclusion. So, it wasn't that hard – when he decided what he wanted – to figure out a way to get it.

As he sat outside Bonnie's home, waiting for her to arrive, Damon finally understood what exactly it was that had been missing from the past two weeks. Seeing her scorn as she walked into the school; seeing her incredibly tempting parted lips as she sat at the table – wanting to run his nose up the length of her neck and taste the path of her skin along her jaw line – the desire to sample her skin, and not her blood – it was so obvious, he was sure she saw it as well. He wanted more than the scent of her blood – he wanted _more_ than this patient wait for death. He wanted more than this darkness, this nothingness that he had become. He wanted humanity.

She was giving him the most exhilarating rush he'd felt in centuries – she was breathing life into his dead body – and if he had to take the stupid 19th century moral judgments with it, then so be it. She could breathe her song into him and make him real – so real he almost heard his heart beat, so real he didn't notice how cold his skin was to the touch – so real that he craved human things, wanted human pleasures (especially the ones wrapped up in her). If she just called his name, she would be scooping him out of the overwhelming darkness of being a Salvatore in Mystic Falls, a hundred years after he should have died. If she just called his name, he could feel those bursting bubbles – hell, even that breaking grief would be something – _something –_ more than the emptiness that he couldn't fill with oranges and daydreams and other women with caramel skin.

She _was_ waking him from the dead, he thought with a smirk as Bonnie pulled into her drive way. If she noticed him, she didn't show it. He stepped from the shadows slowly as she made her way to the door and turned the key. A smile spread across his face as she stepped inside, and did a complete turn to cross her arms and stare at him from behind the barrier. When she arched her brow, Damon's smile burst into a grin as he bounded up the porch stairs, hands stuffed casually in his pockets. As contagious as his grin was, Bonnie bit back the desire to reflect his obvious joy.

"I kept the flower." She pointed out. "Just in case you tried anything when I got home."

"Peace offering." Damon said.

"You were holding it." Bonnie pointed out. "so I'm sure it has no effect on you, for whatever reason."

"It has less of an effect than I thought," Damon admitted, before holding his hand up to her. It had been hours later, but the sting the vervaine caused as he rotated the stem in his hand as he searched the town for her, had left a temporary mark in the form of light scar lines up and down his fingers. He stuffed his hand back into his pocket with a shrug. "Don't worry, it'll be gone in the morning."

"I wasn't worried." Bonnie said. "And the wolf's bane?"

Damon feigned innocence, "Wolf's bane? What are you talking about?"

"Was that a message for me, or for Caroline?" Bonnie said, evenly.

"I don't like sharing." Damon said simply, not needing or wanting to reference the images of Tyler kissing her cheek or dancing with her at the party. A flash of annoyance darkened his eyes at the thought of it.

"At least you're honest," Bonnie muttered. She took the flower from her hair, and leaned against the door frame. She was in a black dress with thin straps that framed her figure much more subtly than the red dress. The flower – magenta with black spots – was eerily in tune with the color of her skin, and the shade of her lips with nothing but a sheen of clear gloss on. When she saw herself in the mirror in the bathroom at the Grille, she shuddered at the thought that he had memorized her face. But she felt so tired – emotionally and physically; so weak, and unwilling to spar that she just whispered: "What do you want?"

"Call me, Bonnie." Damon said, more insistently this time. He was wearing – remarkably – a long sleeved, cream sweater that he seemed too small for him in his present, less domineering state. His hair was a ruffled mess and when he stopped to look at her, his eye brows more tortured and sad than Stefan's could ever be – Bonnie had to dig her nails into her palms to keep herself from letting his win with erratic behaviour. No matter how much his cool blue eyes reminded her of a tumultuous ocean – no matter how much his scruffy, exhausted appearance made her want to hug him like a small child – Bonnie would not budge this easily!

"What?" Bonnie's brows furrowed. She put a hand on her hips and frowned. "Why?"

"Let's just say I'm testing a theory." He said, his eyes flashing with the wild, carelessness of the demon prince she used to know.

"Well, what's the theory?" Bonnie humoured him.

"Just call me!" He growled. When she didn't react to his threat, didn't do anything really but hum with the sweet scent of her bewitched blood, he shifted tactics. "Please. Go back inside, light up your little tea lights, and sing me that song."

"Damon," Bonnie said, waiting until he lifted his eyes to hers before she continued, "You're scaring me. Why do you want me to summon you?"

Damon muttered. His eyes hardened as he dared her: "_You_ are the one who was all into researching summoning spells. So finish the job, and _call me_."

Bonnie shook her head, "Why would I summon you when you're right here? We can just talk like this."

"I don't want to _talk_." Damon spat the last word like it was the most juvenile, irrelevant and aggravating thing he had ever heard. He shook his head in frustration, completely exasperated. He pushed himself off of the door frame and paced back and forth on Bonnie's porch, raking a hand through his hair.

"What do you want then?" Bonnie asked.

He turned towards her suddenly, his face scant inches from hers. He couldn't touch her; couldn't cross the barrier – but Bonnie still found herself wanting him to. "What do you want?" She repeated, more gently this time.

He met her eyes with his own, and the desperate sincerity etched in them had her heart stirring almost as much as his next words did when his breath skimmed across her face: "I want to _feel_."


	8. bring me to life

**AN: Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews, and the scathing ones ;) I am having a bad week, and sorely needed to cheer myself up with some Bonnie-Damon loving; I hope it picks your day up, too! This was originally one long chapter, but it got too long so I cut it in two – the next one will be up shortly!**

"You _want_ to feel?" Bonnie repeated, incredulously. "You, mister 'flip a switch and the emotions are off' – want to feel?" Her light and delicate laughter floated up into the air between them like tiny bubbles he wanted to burst in his fingers.

"It's uncanny how well you know me." Damon muttered, "It's like I _just _said that."

"And you need my help because...?" Bonnie teased, putting a hand on one hip and arching her brow. Damon begging was not a particularly attractive sight – but after his rudeness at her birthday party, it wasn't totally unwelcome. Ok, maybe he was a bit cuter than she gave him credit for – drowning in a light, cream-colored sweater that was a stark contrast against the sharp angles of his face.

"Well, this may have escaped your attention," Damon said, lowering his voice to conspiratorial whisper as he got closer to her, "But I'm a vampire."

"Exactly." Bonnie said, not realizing that an amused smile was lighting up her fact.

"So I can't summon myself." Damon stated the obvious. He leaned against the door frame. "Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

"Why not just flip the switch?" Bonnie asked. She mirrored his position, leaning against the same side of the door as him. She cast her eyes up to meet his, and found his face dangerously close to hers. Bonnie couldn't deny that he was incredibly handsome – especially with his pensive head tilted down so his breath tickled her cheeks. She clasped her hands at her front to keep him from seeing them shake.

"I've _tried_ that." Damon said through gritted teeth. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep himself from doing something stupid. But that didn't stop the snarl that twisted his lips. "On, off, on, off, on, off..."

"Okay!" Bonnie interrupted, "I get it – the switch's not cutting it. Why isn't it?"

"I don't know," Damon lied. He frowned, forcing eye contact in an attempt to make her believe him. He hadn't noticed how close their faces were – but he only let the surprise at seeing her tantalizing skin so close and untouchable dance across his expression for a moment. She didn't seem to believe him, but she didn't press the issue either. She didn't need to believe him to understand him.

Bonnie reached up and pulled the flower from her hair, twirling it in her fingers as he had been doing when he walked into the Grille. She looked down at the flower as she spoke softly, struck again by the beauty of the deadly blossom: "What happens after I call you?"

"What do you mean?" Damon said. He hadn't thought that far ahead – hadn't bothered to consider what would happen when the spell had been cast, when he was feeling light-headed and fluttery, and free of that torturous, clawing need to spill blood.

"When the spell ends, what happens?" Bonnie kept her eyes on the flower. She traced the soft petals carefully with her fingers, and began to pluck them one by one as they spoke.

Damon shrugged, "Same as always?"

She looked up at him again, and if he didn't know any better, he'd swear his heart skipped a beat at the way her searching, pleading eyes met his: "So, you walk away and continue to act like a total prick?"

"You have a better suggestion?" He said, his voice not faltering and his gaze not shifting at her mocking tone.

Bonnie licked her lips anxiously. "I have an alternative, yes." When Damon arched an eyebrow and waited for her to continue, she took a steadying breath and said: "Stay with me."

"What?" Now it was Damon's turn to laugh. He let out a disbelieving, mocking laugh that would have felt like a slap in the face if Bonnie hadn't steeled her emotions for this conversation.

"I've been wondering where you go," Bonnie explained. "When the spell ends and you turn into... well, a _more_ monstrous version of yourself." The pause she took to breath was enough for him to register her words with a curious excitement – _version of yourself_, she had said – as if the vampire was just a mask to put on – and not him, not _really_ him. "Does the spell make you... hurt people?"

Damon could tell by her downcast eyes that whatever he said in response would make or break more than just his chances of getting her to call him. He fidgeted nervously and shoved his hands into his pocket. Rocking back on his heels, he took a deep, steadying breath when she made a shifty glance up from what was left of the flower and he saw the shimmer of frightened tears. He was struck by the image: like something had knocked the wind out of him. It wasn't that he hadn't seen that look before – maybe it was because he had seen it before – in his own eyes: the fear that you are responsible for an innocent person's death. Even if it hadn't been the truth, Damon knew he couldn't resist the answer that rushed from his lips in a desperate attempt to comfort the fragile girl: "No!"

"You don't go out and... _feed_?" Bonnie asked, blinking back tears as she met his eyes.

"No." Damon said. A smile of relief involuntarily spread across her lips, and she made a move to step forward – out from behind the barrier and into the late night – but Damon mirrored her movement with a step back of his own: "I admit, there has been the occasional slip up. But no one has died. Or even been injured really." She saw him shrug before he turned to face her again with a wicked glint behind his eye. "You'd be surprised the number of willing girls you can find with a vampire fetish."

Bonnie tried to force a frown, but she couldn't suppress the relief that tickled the corner of her lips. She felt like a child had let go of five hundred helium balloons inside her stomach – like she was lifting off of the ground in glee with each steadying breath she took. The next words Damon said could burst those balloons – send her spiralling to the ground – and made part of her cautious about how much to trust and give in to the lofty sensation.

"As long as you require it, I won't spill innocent blood. But you can't judge _consensual_ hook ups." Damon said sincerely. "Careful before you get those brood-y lines like Stefan."

"So you're only a threat to poor, unsuspecting werewolves, then?" Bonnie teased, letting the handful of the petals fall to the ground. She stepped towards him, and he, meeting her eyes and refusing to blink or destroy the ties that tethered his gaze to hers, took a step back in a precarious dance: "I was never really the animal rights type."

He was rewarded with a smooth laugh as Bonnie tilted her head back slightly in appreciation: the curve of her neck was delicious. Too entranced to continue their dance by taking a step back when she walked toward him Damon watched in tense silence as she slipped quickly past him and hopped down the stairs to relax comfortably on the edge of a step.

Bonnie leaned against the railing, and closed her eyes. The sound of the pub – the questions, the conversation, the rouse at having fun – was replaced by the chirp of happy crickets and the rustle of leaves in the nearby trees. She clasped her hands quickly and let them rest comfortably between her thighs, which were starting to form little goose bumps themselves from the night breeze.

Damon took his seat a step below her on the porch. With the slight difference in height, their eyes met on the same plane as the gravity of the situation settled around them. He saw her gaze dip to his mouth with an arched brow ready to challenge anything he said, and he couldn't help but lick his lips in response: "So you want me to stay with you?"

"Yes," Bonnie nodded firmly.

"Why?" The grin didn't ebb or fade from his lips – if anything, he emitted a seductive arrogance from the knowing tilt of his head, to the casual, nonchalant silhouette his body made leaning against her doorframe.

"Just so I know you won't hurt anyone." She said simply.

Damon pushed himself up off of the door frame, but didn't take his eyes off of her as he walked backwards away from her home and down the steps. "Is that _really_ why?"

"Yes!" Bonnie said, a bit too quickly – so she cleared her throat and tried again: "Yes."

The grin stretched up until his eyes were twinkling and he had to look down at his feet as he shifted his weight to keep himself from laughing: "Alright, if that's what you want to believe."

"So, oranges, hmm?" Bonnie said loudly. She leaned forward and rested her elbow on a knee and cradling her face – but the heat that emanated from her light blush was unmistakable; it peeked at him between the crevices of her fingers, and Damon knew, if the spell was on – she'd be glowing pink. For him.

"Oranges?" Damon said with a shrug, feigning ignorance. He tossed her a look over his shoulder – brow arched, lips tilted seductively – letting her know he knew exactly what she was talking about. "I think I'm allergic to oranges."

"Weird craving, then?" Bonnie offered lightly, taking a steadying breath as his eyes seemed to rake over every edge. "Maybe you're pregnant."

"I don't think I have the parts for that," Damon replied, shifting his body to face hers. Bonnie matched his movements, pressing her back against the rail and stretching her feet out before her.

"I'm not going to ask you to prove it," Bonnie said with a laugh, "So stop waiting."

**BDBDBDBD**

Damon showed up on Bonnie's porch the next night with the familiar light spring in his step. It was seven at night, and she wasn't dressed in her usual get up of juvenile – or super sexy – sleep wear. Damon grinned, as he observed the image of Bonnie in a black leather jacket, a white t-shirt and tight blue jeans that hugged every curve of her eighteen year old body – oh, and the flashlight in her hand.

"Let's do something fun," Bonnie said, pulling the door closed behind her. Her eyes flashed wildly at him, and she bit her lip as if to keep from spilling a delicious secret. Damon couldn't help the wicked smirk that lit up his face in a suggestive, charming way: "What did you have in mind?"

"Field trip!" Bonnie announced, her face lit up with excitement that evidenced how very please she was with herself. She locked the door and started to hop down the porch steps. She scent of her tangy blood wafted in the air behind her as she moved, as if she was seeping magic now. Damon closed his eyes and took a discrete breath like he was inhaling the fresh night breeze. She glanced at him over her shoulder, "Coming?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Damon smirked. "Something kind of vital to this arrangement?"

"Patience," Bonnie said, waiting for him to catch up. Damon took his time, enjoying the way her expression radiated delight with a side of self satisfaction. Her eyes sparkled as they studied him, and he licked his lips as he thought of the creeping, delicate glee that would soon spread over his body. He almost felt it now – could've sworn the way she was looking at him as she pulled her gloves on – was eliciting that intoxicating tug. He moved toward her, and felt a sharp tug in his chest: not the same tug as the summoning, but still a feeling of being drawn to her – almost like a phantom tug that he knew should be there for him to feel this way.

"We'll take my car this time," Bonnie said, "But next time, drive over, will you?"

"You should have specified that in your text." Damon said simply. They both headed to the driver's seat when she arched a brow at him and said, "Bring your own car if you want to drive."

Damon let out an annoyed growl, but made his way to the passenger's seat. "Where are we going?"

"Home," Bonnie said, grinning like a silly child. She clapped her hands together quickly before resting them on her lap.

"The Boarding House?" Damon frowned, "I just came from there!"

"No, douche-bag Damon," Bonnie teased, "Home-home."

"The ruins?" Damon asked, panic starting to creep up and tug at his chest.

"Yes!" Bonnie smiled, "Aren't you excited?"

_Terrified_. "I don't do excited." Damon deadpanned, keeping his eyes trained steadily ahead. He flexed his fingers into fists at his sides as she began to drive. When they reached the edge of the overgrown forest that his child hood property began on, they parked and got out. She tossed the flashlight playfully from hand to hand, and made her way to a clearing. Bonnie called out behind her when she sensed he was lagging behind: "Come on! Tell me when we get to your room!"

Damon swallowed his apprehension and followed behind her. He focused his eyes, scanning the property as she walked ahead. If he ignored the curvy figure she cut against the night sky, and the dense quiet that would've been frightening if he wasn't the most dangerous thing out there – Damon could almost see the vision of his old home. That's what got him: the chance that he could see it – that he could feel it all, all over again. He shook his head and had to repeat it twice before his voice was loud enough for her to hear: "Stop! That's fine."

Bonnie turned to face him and fell to her knees, pulling materials out of her fabric tote. She set up three tea candles quickly, and set her purse on the ground, allowing the grimoire to peek out from it. Damon slid his hands in his pockets and kept his distance – watching as her lips began to move in the familiar tune:

_I'm in here, I'm trying to tell you something – Can anybody help?_

_I'm in here, I'm crying out, but you can't hear – Can anybody help?_

Damon took a step closer as he felt the familiar pull at his chest – it latched onto him more gently now that he was in such close proximity. It was like tendrils of heated light were beginning to emanate from the young witch – tendrils that curled and beckoned him forward like seductively bent fingers. They wrapped around his heart and chest, filling him up with a strange warmth that drew him closer: like a moth to a flame.

Bonnie closed her eyes tightly as she felt the spell begin. Her body began to warm and hum and buzz – her skin felt hot, and her face flushed. She knew her hands were shaking and beyond her control as she gripped her knees to keep them steady.

_Can you hear my call? Are you coming to get me now?_

_I've been waiting for you to come asking me; _

_I need you to hold all of the sadness I cannot live with inside of me._

Bonnie felt heavy: she felt anxious and nervous – there was something strange about being here. Damon wasn't inspiring in her the luscious, fluttering butterflies he had often sparked to life when she stood behind her doorway. She had expected to be overwhelmed by his goodness in this place – by his spirit, and his kindness that he had long since stifled and refused to acknowledge existed: but instead, she was met by a deep, overwhelming sorrow and regret.

She stuttered over the words, and opened her eyes to ask him if he wanted to continue when she saw his face so close to hers – contorted in desperate pleading, he was clutching his chest a few feet across from her. He had fallen to rest on his knees as had she. He nodded his head to ask her to continue.

_I'm crying out – I'm breaking down. I am feeling it all, stuck inside these walls._

_Tell me there is hope for me._

_Is anybody out there listening?_

Damon's face seemed to relax slightly, and Bonnie forced eye contact with him. She smiled, and the flames on the tea lights spiralled higher. The wind kicked up, and she brushed her hair behind her ear – remembering suddenly the sensation of Damon's presence as he slid a beautiful peace offering behind her ear. The intensity of the moment – the underlying secret, the way their eyes could meet and the air behind them could spark to pieces with the animosity, with the understanding – she felt it all again as she gazed into his blue eyes.

_Can you hear my call – are you coming to get me now?_

_I've been waiting for you to come asking me;_

Damon let a smile dance across his face as his hand dropped from his chest, and he took a deep breath of relief. As Bonnie sang the last line of her song - _I need you to hold all of the sadness I cannot live with inside of me _– he knew with sudden certainty that this was a lot more than a simple summoning spell. She was pulling the regret, the sorrow, the grief – all the bad feelings – out from deep inside him, torturing him with their presence, and then absorbing it into herself. They were trading tragedies. He would always carry part of her Grams' death with him, and she, it seemed, was volunteering to carry half the weight of almost two hundred years of killing with her.

"Are you alright?" Bonnie asked, letting out a breath. She was glowing – her face was flushed, so the normally bronze light was jumping with bright reds and hot pinks. She was resonating a delectable heat that tinged the air between them and made him lick his lips that were suddenly dry.

Damon nodded, "Are you?"

"I am," Bonnie grinned at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Hot." Damon said with a smirk. It was true – she was burning up like his own personal heater; besides that, the intense way she held his gaze and licked her lips right back – was sending a familiar heat coursing through his body. He moved closer to her, and she didn't flinch or move away. When their eyes met – really met – he felt tethered to her, unwilling to blink, and unable to move away.

"Maybe we should talk," Bonnie suggested weakly, not seeming to want to move from his gaze either.

"About what?" Damon asked. The light was dancing off of her – playing in curious curls and jumping off to spark like little fireworks in the dark.

"You." Bonnie said with a laugh, like it was the most obvious thing ever. "You're home, what's it like?"

"Awful," He said without thinking. "I never wanted to come back here."

"Oh, no," Bonnie said, her face contorting in frustrated sorrow. Normally, he would be either aggravated by her stupidity, or annoyed at her ability to unwittingly hit the wrong buttons – but seeing her like this, he almost felt touched that she was so repentant. "I'm sorry; I thought it would help to be around the places where you lived your life."

"I don't even go around them when I'm not summoned," Damon admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

"I'm sorry," Bonnie said again. She reached out to touch him, but stopped herself with a smile. "Don't want to break the spell."

Damon's eyes were still following the beautiful image she cut in front of him – entranced, he replied: "It's stronger than you think."

"I guess I thought this would be an easy place to come to," Bonnie admitted, lowering her voice to a whisper, "Since you didn't kill anyone here as a human. Did you?"

"Not if you don't count the war," Damon laughed at the concerned face she made. "I was a model citizen."

"Were you rich?" Bonnie prodded.

"Moderately wealthy." Damon said with a smirk, studying the ground before him. Discussing money with a lady made him a bit uncomfortable.

"What did it look like?" Bonnie said, gesturing around her. "Minus the slaves."

Damon smirked, "We weren't _that_ rich."

"Oh, slaves were a luxury, hmm?" Bonnie teased. "Well, what did it look like?"

"It was beautiful." Damon said, standing up. Bonnie stood with him as he walked around the open space. "Lots of rooms – a library, even. Huge windows from ceiling to floor. Father's office. Mother's room – untouched after she died. My room, and Stefan's," Damon gestured widely, "Perhaps not as far apart as they should have been."

"Too easy to exchange lovers," Bonnie joked in a feigned snooty accent.

"And now it's not easy enough." Damon joked back. Bonnie rolled her eyes at him playfully: "What else, kind sir?"

"Horses over there," He pointed in one direction before turning sharply in the other, "The courtyard over there – where I used to beat Stefan up whenever he irritated me."

"That must have been lovely," Bonnie said sincerely in response to the words he bit out with a strange, sarcastic nostalgia. Damon arched an eyebrow at her, and was surprised when she continued: "Having a brother, I mean, not beating him up. It can be lonely being by yourself."

"It can be." He walked forward a bit more and paused for a moment as if searching his memory. "This was the dining room." He turned to Bonnie and held out a hand in invitation for her to join him. She came to stand beside him, but didn't take his hand: "Aren't you going to pull out my seat?"

"Of course," Damon said with a smile, moving behind her and doing the motions. She fell to sitting position in one smooth motion: "What's on the menu?"

"Roast duck," Damon announced. He lowered his voice to a scandalous whisper as he sat beside her. "Father _hates_ duck, so naturally, I loved it."

Bonnie laughed, "Always the troublemaker."

"Is that bad, judgy?" He asked.

"Charming," She replied with approval.

"You know, this is an incredibly playful summoning." Damon pointed out. The good mood was marked more by a feeling of incredible lightness all over than anxiety or remorse. Bonnie shrugged innocently, but Damon shook his head, "Don't do that. This is your fault." He frowned, "You're in a good mood."

Bonnie laughed, "Is that bad?"

"It's not bad, per se," Damon said, the sound of her laughter sending delicious tingling sensations throughout his body like someone was ringing bells in his stomach and the sound was echoing within the walls of his skin. "But it's affecting the mood."

"I'm happy, you're happy?" Bonnie said with a shrug, "Sounds like a great friendship to me." _Friend._

"It's the spell." Damon said bluntly.

"I know," Bonnie said, nodding. "Like I said – I'm happy, you're happy."

"Why are you happy?" Damon asked suddenly. Bonnie was startled at the proximity of his voice and, turning to look at him, found that his face was also much closer than she was normally comfortable with. He was studying her intensely with eyes that washed over every angle of her face, as if trying to interpret some message that was written in code there.

"I don't know," Bonnie whispered as he leaned his face even closer. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, as she was torn between keeping his beautiful baby blues in her vision and letting her lids droop closed in preparation for – for what, a kiss? Damon closed the space between them, studying her even more intently the closer he got. She inhaled a sharp breath, and paused in hesitation as he made his next move.

Damon was overcome with want. He couldn't smell her blood, but he could smell her skin – rich and luscious, warm and buzzing with glorious light – he wanted to envelope himself in her light, to absorb every ounce of the luscious spell. He didn't want to pierce her flesh – but he wanted to taste her against his mouth, feel the curve of her flesh under his lips. He wanted to kiss her, and he wasn't sure – couldn't possibly know – if it was his desire that he felt building up like a tightening coil – or her own.

He leaned forward and caressed her hot cheek with his cool hand – just as he had a few nights ago as he placed a poison flower in her hair. Except this time, Bonnie didn't lean into his grasp – instead she stumbled and lost her balance until she was sprawled on the ground before him: a luscious treat for the vampire side that overtook him in the split second it took for her sultry, seductive scent to hit the wind. The spell was broken – and Damon wanted.

Damon was on top of her in second – his arms on the ground either side of her. Bonnie tried to sit up – considered kicking him off of her – but she knew it was impossible. He looked up at her, with his eyes cast over in that vampire gaze, and she swallowed in trepidation. She clutched the grass tightly in her hands, and braced herself for the onslaught that never came.

Damon started with her knees – they were bent at strange angles as he glided his face over her body, inhaling every inch of her young body. He slid his nose behind her right knee, imagining what it would feel like to press his lips to her tender skin instead of tight denim. He continued the ascent up her body, pausing for a second at the apex of her legs just long enough to make her flinch nervously, before continuing to her navel. Damon nudged her shirt up off her waist to reveal a patch of bronze skin that still had a slight, sparkling glow as the remnants of the spell wore off. He rested his forehead against her upper stomach, letting his breath raise goose bumps on her flesh as he let out a trembling exhale. He was starting to want this woman that shifted hesitantly beneath him – for all the wrong reasons.

He made quick work of the rest of her, tracing the curve of her waist with his nose – letting his ear hover above the luxurious sound of her racing heart as it beat underneath his ear. It was all he could do not to scrape the skin at her throat where her pulse beat out a seductive rhythm, and where the scent of oranges was as intoxicating as wine – instead, he allowed himself a chaste kiss to touch that pulse to his hungry lips.

Bonnie's sudden intake of breath startled Damon – sent his vampire urges creeping slightly back as he struggled to maintain control over his urges. He hovered above her still – stealing the moment to feel her heated skin against his cool flesh – allowing himself the pleasure of tracing her jaw line with his lips before he collapsed beside her in sweaty, sultry defeat.

"I think I just wet my panties." Bonnie muttered in relief as her body relaxed against the ground.

"Orgasmic?" Damon grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. He let out an exhausted breath and mimicked her pose on the soft earth. He felt the grass tickle his skin in the wind – a simple sensation he hadn't bothered to enjoy in years. Closing his eyes, he let the sweet scent of oranges overwhelm him in an entirely different way: he was soothed by her presence. He ignored the sound of her ragged breathing – the image from his peripheral vision of her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath – ignored the racing of her pulse and the image her silhouette cut against the dawn as she lay sprawled in the Earth.

Not one to resist temptation, he turned his face to see her, and was struck by the simply beauty of the pleased smile that curved slowly across her lips. The dawn lit up the caramel and bronze tones of her skin even as she blushed pink and red with tired excitement and anxious relief. When she licked her lips to moisten her dry mouth, Damon had to close his eyes against the image and clutch the grass more tightly to resist the urge – so different from before, and yet just as strong and craving – to crush her body to his own.

"Sure, let's go with that." Bonnie said, with a laugh: "Same time tomorrow?"

"You know how to reach me."

When she opened her eyes and turned to offer him a smile, Bonnie's breath caught in her throat at the handsome sight he made – exhausted and pleased, lying in the cool grass as the breeze tangled up in his hair. She blinked rapidly, startled at the vision, and all at once it hit her: she would be seeing this face a lot more from now on – in private, dark moments – swept up in intense, seductive spells with no one to stop them from silencing the enchantment with a simple touch.

_Oh dear_, she thought as his lips curved into a smile that sent shivers down her spine, w_hat have I done?_


	9. all the best deceptions

**AN: Here it is! And it is twice as long as I thought it would be. I changed the rating to M just in case, but it's not as naughty a chapter as you'd think ;) Thanks for all the reviews – they really keep me inspired. I hope you enjoy it, because I seriously procrastinated not being able to get Bonnie and Damon out of my mind! 3**

Bonnie yawned involuntarily as she made her way to her car. She had abandoned wearing heels, knowing that drooping eyes and unsteady balance were not the best combination. She'd seen Damon two more times that week, and was planning to see him again that evening – it was taking a toll on her body. She was exhausted, and no matter how many hot baths, bottles of orange juice, and pots of chicken soup she went through, it didn't seem to be getting better. The only relief she found was when she was wrapped up in the spell – when Damon and her were buzzing with the same adrenaline rush of delicious, tickling, fluttery emotions.

"What's going on, Bonnie?" Elena asked. "You've been kind of MIA lately."

"Yeah, ever since the Grille," Caroline said, thoughtfully. She lowered her voice as they walked through the parking lot, "Did Damon do something?"

"Damon's not that bad!" Bonnie and Elena said at the same time.

"Since when do you defend Damon?" Elena asked, narrowing her eyes at her friend. She did a quick visual scan for bite marks – easy enough since Bonnie's hair was in a messy pony tail and she was wearing a v-neck t shirt: not the style of a vampire's victim.

"I'm not defending him." Bonnie shrugged. "He's just not involved, so why bring him up?"

Elena ignored the fact that her friend's voice raised an octave – classic Bennett tell.

"So where have you been?" Caroline chirped.

"Just doing some research," Bonnie said, barely overcoming a nervous stutter. She took a deep breath and hoped Caroline couldn't hear the increasing beat of her pulse as she continued, "Extra credit for Mr. Saltzman."

"What kind of extra credit?" Elena asked.

"History project," Bonnie gave a silly grin, secretly amused at her own joke. She could see Damon rolling his eyes so clearly that she had to stifle the challenging smirk that threatened to follow. "Speaking of, I should probably get going. Bye girls!" Bonnie cried as she hurried to her car and drove off.

"What's up with her?" Caroline asked, "If I didn't know better I'd say it's a boy."

"Me too," Elena agreed, pulling her phone from her pocket and sending out a quick text. Except she did know better – it wasn't a boy; it was a vampire.

**BDBDBDBD**

"What is this?" Bonnie laughed as Damon handed her another deadly blossom from the other side of the door. When she extended her hands, he raised a teasing eyebrow at the white gloves that covered them. She was already wearing a long sleeved shirt and sweats that hung loosely from her hips.

"What?" She grinned, taking the flower from him and sliding it behind her ear. "We know that we can't touch if we want this to last. I'm just trying to avoid any accidents."

"I didn't say anything," Damon said, but the mocking expression didn't fade: "I think this look suits you. No, _really_ – vast improvement, all covered up. Leaves more to the imagination." He titled his head and narrowed his eyes, "I mean, it would have to be a very strong, vivid imagination..."

"Shut up!" Bonnie said in mock indignation as she swung out her arm and punched him lightly in the shoulder. There was something strange about Bonnie tonight: she was exuding a playful cloud of rainbow light tonight – all nervous excitement and girlish anxiety. It was like she couldn't decide on what emotion or sensation to focus on, and was bursting with chaotic passions instead. He felt the fluttering of butterflies tickling at the base of his stomach and could barely suppress the grin of anticipation as he rubbed his arm: "Getting rough, are we?"

"Don't like it rough?" She said, putting the hand on her hip.

"Don't give it out if you can't take it," He challenged right back. "So why aren't we going to the old manor?"

"My dad's not home," Bonnie said. "I thought we'd test this barrier out again."

"Oh, really?" Damon asked, arching an eyebrow at the memory of her last test. He felt a sudden heat creeping up his neck, and he clenched his hands into fists as he resisted the urge to warn her against it. So she wanted to tempt him, did she? Even human Damon wasn't much for resisting temptation.

"Yes, except," Bonnie took a steadying breath, "I think you should decide what happens."

"Take your clothes off." Damon said simply, before he realized the words left his mouth. But he wouldn't have stopped them if he could – not after he saw what it did to her. Her bronze light lit up with a sudden flash of red, and she seemed to stutter as she looked for the right words to say. He narrowed his eyes at her, and enjoyed the vision of her stumbling back – as if the force of his gaze was a physical nudge. She was halfway through running a hand through her hair when she paused and let a sly smirk creep across her lips. Her aura faded into an intoxicating bronze – it shimmered like a soft sunset, and burst at the edges in a cool blue that was as smooth and heated as the sway of her hips as she walked right up to the barrier of the door.

Bonnie caught Damon's gaze. There were moments – like this one – where she felt the spell more strongly than ever. There was a cord between their eyes – if she shifted her gaze one way, his followed – so that no matter how they moved or blinked, their entire vision field would be filled with each other. As she bit down on the edge of a finger of her glove and slide it off, he didn't shift his gaze from her eyes – although she heard him swallow in anticipation. She did the same to the other hand and he didn't move.

Bonnie crossed her arms in front of her, grasping either side of her shirt as she slid it slowly over her head. In synchronicity with the barrier that interrupted their gaze as she slid the shirt over her head and tossed it at him – she heard Damon let out a sudden breath. When his icy blue eyes hit hers again they were dark and stunned – so stunning and heady in their own right, that it took a moment before she noticed him copy her moves.

Damon's smirk was more skilled and practiced than her own – more real and immediate, intoxicatingly him as its presence teased her. His hands flew quickly over the buttons of his navy blue dress shirt, starting at the top and making his way agonizingly to the bottom. Bonnie barely noticed her breath hitch as it fell open in front of her.

But Damon noticed. He kept his eyes focused on hers as they scanned his body – she was memorizing him, spending time on every curve and angle of his body that he revealed to her. Unconsciously, her hand rested on her own heart as if to keep it from thudding so deafeningly against her chest. Without his vampire hearing to clue him in, Damon took that as an encouraging sign that she was as affected by the suddenly heated exchange as he was. "Soldier," Damon said by way of explanation of the physique she was so amusingly impressed by.

"Right," Bonnie said on a hypnotic breath that caught him by surprise with its sincerity. She wasn't mocking him – she wasn't sizing him up or using him – she was figuring him out: like a riddle, like a spell. "That explains it."

"What explains you?" Damon asked, taking a step closer. He wanted her to spread her trembling fingers across his chest and push his shirt to the ground. He wanted to hear her pulse racing as he touched her again – as he sampled her jaw with less restraint than before. There was something about this spell – the pull was more than magnetic: it was captivating and unrelenting – the more she wanted him, the more he wanted her. Every buzz of anxious anticipation that rushed through her was rushing through him.

Bonnie laughed in embarrassment and looked at her feet. She brought her arms up to cover her body and that sweet, soft pink light spilled around her face. "I got it from my mama?"

"Invite me in," Damon said, raising his hand right up to the barrier – so close to her face that he could feel her cool breath as she said, "Nope."

"Then come here." Damon pressed, his voice more urgent than he intended. Bonnie seemed to shift towards him and hesitate, so he took a step closer instead.

"Touch me, Bonnie," Damon whispered, tilting his head so tantalizingly – so close. Bonnie licked her lips as she looked at his – it would be so easy – too easy – to take a step forward and give herself up to the spell. There was nothing stopping her except –well, except she didn't love Damon. And he loved her best friend. And she wanted to do the right thing. And Grams wouldn't approve. And what would Elena think of her? Bonnie shook her head, sending both her confused thoughts and the sumptuous pull of the spell out of her mind.

She looked up at Damon with a teasing grin: "In your dreams, Salvatore." She reached out and gave Damon a quick, light slap across the face before. "Well? Coming to get me?"

Damon laughed in defeat and hung his head. "Really? You're not going to come out here?" He took a deep breath of the broken air – the light scent of her tangy blood was stronger, fresher. He clenched his teeth to keep his vampire urges from taking over, although he could feel his face start to transform. But she couldn't blame him – could she? – she was standing there: so delectable, with her exposed, soft skin and all her graceful curves. Then again, she was Bonnie – of course she could blame him.

When she shook her head, he took a step forward, but found it impossible to actually get inside. He settled for leaning against the door frame instead.

"Don't want me?" Bonnie challenged, with a slight pout. He couldn't tell if it was genuine or not, so he slid down the wall of her house to sit comfortably on the ground in response. Bonnie sighed and joined him from her side of the door. "You're not in as much control tonight."

Damon took a deep breath, and the vampire visage made a temporary appearance before he let out a slow exhale like he was smoking a cigarette. "Your breasts are enlarged."

"What?" Bonnie yelled, wrapping her arms around her chest.

Damon grinned. "You're on your period."

"Oh, right. Yup." Bonnie made a face, "Can you _smell_ me?"

"Mmmm," Damon closed his eyes in answer, and let a pleased grin spread across his face just because he knew it would upset her: "Oranges."

"Stop smelling me!" Bonnie muttered in embarrassment. She pulled her legs closer to her and wrapped her arms around them. Resting her chin on her knees she stuck her tongue out at him, looking especially adorable with his flower tucked behind her ear.

"Aren't I in enough pain with cramps and the like without your teasing?"

"I can take care of that you know," Damon said with a smirk, turning his head lazily towards her.

"The pain?"

"The blood."

"Eww," Bonnie said with a strange laugh as she pulled her legs more tightly together, "I think I'll pass, thanks."

"Your loss," Damon grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You're disgusting." Bonnie said.

"Maybe another time," Damon shrugged, the grin spreading further as he watched her squirm in embarrassment, "When you're not so... wound up."

"Maybe in your dreams," Bonnie repeated with a smile.

"Definitely in my dreams," Damon said, closing his eyes and enjoying the whip of the evening breeze as it hit his face. Bonnie shivered in the breeze, so Damon stood to make his exit.

"Sorry your plan didn't work out." He offered as he made his way to go.

"Aren't you going to button up your shirt?" Bonnie called as he turned his back to her.

"And disappoint the ladies?" Damon called back without looking behind him. He hopped easily down the porch stairs before turning to face her, "Besides, maybe Elena is home."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, "Goodnight, Damon."

"Goodnight."

**BDBDBDBD**

Bonnie showed up at the Boarding House the next week banking on Damon's text – that Elena wasn't there – being true. There was something about Elena's interest in Damon that made Bonnie uncomfortable. She knew they were friends – best friends even, maybe even as close as Bonnie and Elena once were – but what happened between her and Damon, between two non-human beings, seemed like it needed to be protected from human eyes.

When the door swung open, and a confused Stefan met her eyes, Bonnie stuttered and mentally cursed herself for not asking if Stefan was around to. Her eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened as she blinked rapidly in front of him, and almost slipped taking a step back, "Uhh..."

"Damon's inside," Stefan smiled, offering his hand for Bonnie to steady herself. She opened her mouth to speak, but Stefan interrupted with a dismissive hand: "Don't tell Elena?"

Bonnie nodded as she walked inside, "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be here."

"Do I want to know what's going on?" Stefan closed the door behind them. She tugged at the strap of her purse over her shoulder, feeling the weight of the grimoire – and the weight of the secret – as she hesitated under his gaze.

"We have a thing." Damon announced, coming down the stairs to meet them. He offered a forced, tight-lipped smile to his brother as he chastised: "Now, now – why did you let her in?"

"She knocked?" Stefan shrugged.

"But I didn't invite her in." Damon frowned, shaking his head at Bonnie. He tapped her under the chin: "Bad witch."

"I'm not a vampire." Bonnie said, feigning offense as she slapped his hand aside.

"Are you two," Stefan smiled, "friends now?"

"No," Bonnie said appalled, as Damon said smugly: "Yes."

"He's just helping me with a history project." Bonnie explained. "Extra credit."

"Right," Damon drawled with a grin. "I'm the history part."

"Primary source?" Bonnie offered weakly, making Damon's grin spread even wider.

"_I'm_ a primary source." Stefan pointed out.

"You didn't fight in the war." Damon replied smugly.

"Ugh, I forgot about that," Bonnie muttered. "Confederate soldier. Eww."

"I know – disgusting." Damon copied her shudder, "But disgusting _is_ what I do best, so shall we get on with it?" He pushed her lightly toward the door,

"Bonnie," Stefan began, but she cut him off: "Don't worry, we know what we're doing."

"I was just going to say," Stefan cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, "Don't keep him out too late."

Damon rolled his eyes, but Bonnie offered the younger brother a dazzling smile. "I'll have him home at a decent hour." She walked out the door as Damon held it open for her, nodding his head slightly as she made her way out. He moved to follow her, but Stefan grabbed his shirt sleeve.

"I don't know what's going on with you two," Stefan said with a smile, "But you've changed."

Damon shrugged his brother off, "If you think this means I don't have my eye on Elena – you're wrong."

"Sure," Stefan said, shaking his head and motioning towards his door as an annoyed "Damon!" sounded from outside. He closed the door behind his brother and closed his eyes in utter relaxation, letting the soothing happiness of the moment overtake his curiosity about what they were up to.

**BDBDBDBD**

"Why won't you let me in?" Damon asked. They were near the old Salvatore place again – Bonnie lying on the hood of his car, her back curved in a delicious arc – as he sat beside her in his best effort at a cool pose.

"My dad." Bonnie said with a soft smile as she focused on the stars above. She had thought about it often – the image of Damon seated comfortably at her kitchen table as she made a cup of tea, or sitting close on the couch as they watched a late night movie – all the ways they could mimic the motions of a normal courtship. Not that _this_ was a courtship; but the desire to have something normal – no, she corrected herself, the desire to have share something normal with him – a part of the human experience that wasn't tortured, or judgmental, or angsty or any of the things she was that she knew he hated – was overwhelming.

"Your dad's not usually home," Damon pointed out, interrupting her thoughts. He watched the cloud in her eyes dissipate at the sound of his voice, and narrowed his own eyes as he tried to decipher her.

"But he is now," Bonnie said dismissively. She caught his studying gaze, and tried again: "Even when he leaves, he won't be gone forever."

"So you don't trust me." Damon said pointedly, the angry rise in his voice startling even him. He felt the annoyed anger bubbling up at the base of his throat – not the good, rainbow colored Glinda the Good Witch Bonnie-bubbles either – the kind that twisted his face into a scowl.

"I trust you." Bonnie said simply, without thinking. She couldn't help but let out a little laugh at how serious he looked, and reached out to tap his nose lightly. The silly gesture seemed to snap him from his concentrated gaze, but she knew her answer wouldn't suffice. "I'm scared."

"Of me?" Damon pressed, the tight control over his voice obvious. His eyes did that thing again – the maniacal thing – that used to set her suspicions on edge, but now only inspired an electric sensation that crawled up her body like a languorous shock. She licked her lips to stem the edge, but it only seemed to make the tension tighter: she was twisting a tight coil between them – it was pulling them closer, making it harder to be away from him – but at the same time, she knew that it was tensing to release. She knew that sooner or later, the tension would be too much – it would burst, the string would break, and they'd both be sent flying apart and away from each other.

Bonnie shook her head, stuffing her hands into her hoodie pockets to keep him from seeing them tremble. "Of how passionate you are."

"So, of me." Damon said, resigned. His eyes clouded over – Bonnie could feel him covering up, retreating into himself again. He let out an anguished sigh, and she felt her heart fall with the weight of his heart break.

"No!" She exclaimed loudly. "I'm not _like_ you, Damon."

"I know." He said, stonily, ready to slide off the car hood. Bonnie reached out quickly and grabbed his shirt sleeve. She focused her attention on her hand, looking down as she spoke, willing it to stop trembling.

"I mean, you have a big heart. You have a deep heart. You feel things so, _so_ much greater than everyone around you." Words were rushing out of her mouth now – she didn't have time to think, to analyze, to judge each syllable that slipped out but she couldn't stop: "You get your heart broken by Katherine, and yet you still love Elena with _everything_."

Damon was too intrigued by Bonnie's words to correct any factual errors she might make. She looked up at him, hoping he'd say something to stem the flow of senseless syllables, but he stayed silent. She continued, letting herself get locked in his azure gaze: "I'm scared that I'll let you down. I'm scared that I'll hurt you, and you'll hurt him. My dad."

The image of Jeremy's snapping neck flashed in Damon's mind and he pushed himself off car hood. He clenched his fists at his side, clenched his jaw tight – he was a ball of angry, frustrated tension. It was why he didn't want her to invite him in the first place, wasn't it? He didn't _want_ to hurt her. He didn't want to _hurt_.

"Damon, wait," Bonnie shook her head, "That came out wrong."

"It's not you, it's me." Damon offered her a sad smile after speaking in falsetto. "Save it, cheerleader."

"I can't invite you in." Bonnie said, taking a steadying breath. "And I'm not going to apologize, because I know you understand. If you could do it again – if you could keep Stefan as Stefan by not inviting Katherine in, you'd do it."

Damon shook his head and scoffed, kicking the porch and looking into the distance as she spoke again: "You know you would."

"I won't hurt your dad." Damon said nonchalantly.

"I know," Bonnie said, "But he's all I have left and –"

"And I killed your Grams," Damon interrupted, closing his eyes at the thought.

"No," Bonnie said softly. He turned to face her, his shoulders caving in on themselves, and she felt terrible: she felt like an anchor had been tied to her own ribs and was pulling her down as well. If his body caved in, hers would too. "You are not evil."

"Then invite me in," Damon challenged. He was back in front of her – testing her, searching her eyes –daring her to blink.

"But then how would we test my theory?" Bonnie countered smoothly. She crossed her arms in front of him in a teasing challenge. "That's the only reason I'm calling you right? To figure out the spell?"

Damon smirked at her attempt to bait him: "It's false."

"When you want to cross it while summoned, you will," Bonnie sang out. She smiled at him: "Then I'll invite you in."

"Maybe you won't need to, once I cross it," Damon said, "Maybe I'll have free reign."

"But you'll want an invitation," Bonnie said knowingly. Damon didn't just want in – he wanted her to ask him in. She knew it with a strange certainty like the sudden warmth in perfect synchronization with Damon's steady, sincere smile.

"Maybe I'll just never leave," he said. Bonnie swallowed loudly under Damon's gaze, and she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. She shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets again, and forced herself to meet his eyes as they raked over her face, and neck and shoulders like he was memorizing the landscape of her body.

"Is that a threat?" She asked.

"A promise." He said, without missing a beat.

"Sounds like a plan," She cleared her throat. "I _am_ running out of tea candles."

"Deal." Damon grinned.

"Now," Bonnie said, hopping off of his car hood, "Would you be so kind as to take me home, sir?"

"As you wish." Damon said, grasping her hand and bringing it to his lips for a slow and teasing kiss. He inhaled the scent of her pulse at her wrist, and let the simple pleasure rush over him. When he opened his eyes, she was shifting her weight awkwardly – her hand shaking in his grasp. He let it go, shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to her: "Why didn't you say you were cold?"

"It's not the breeze," Bonnie quipped, "It's your clammy, vampy skin."

"So next time we bring bourbon." Damon muttered, opening the door and watching as the witch hopped in – looking especially pretty with his large jacket wrapped around her shoulders. "Or light a fire."

**BDBDBDBD**

As she waited for Damon to finish his feeding before they headed to the old Salvatore manor ruins one night, Bonnie perused the library at the Boarding House. She skimmed her fingers over new and old titles – books that were probably ancient even in Damon's human days. Flipping through the pages of a copy of Romeo and Juliet, she found a small, gilded comb – like a vintage lady's hair pin.

"Here for Damon again?" Stefan's voice startled her. He had a pleased smile on beneath an arched brow that was so familiar that she shivered slightly as she shoved comb into her back pocket.

"Yes," Bonnie said, watching him settle on to a chair opposite her. Clasping her hands in front of her, Bonnie made her way over to Stefan and sat beside him. "There's just so much history he knows about."

"Maybe you should ask me too?" Stefan offered, "For a different perspective."

"Errr," Bonnie stalled, trying to come up with an appropriate question. "Back in 1860..."

"Yes?" Stefan said, leaning forward as if in deep concentration.

"How much did they charge, you know, at the market – or whatever, for, uhh," Bonnie gestured wildly, biting her bottom lip in thought: "Kiwis?"

Stefan laughed, "Kiwis?"

"Yes," Bonnie said, keeping a straight face. "Kiwis were - _are_ an important commodity."

"Bonnie," Stefan smiled, "You had two weeks to come up with an answer for a question you knew I would ask."

Bonnie huffed out a breath of defeat. She held up one finger and looked up at him with a pleading smile: "Can I try again?"

"I'm not going to ask what is going on between you two," Stefan assured her. "But you have to give me _something_. Should I be worried? Is he forcing you to do something?"

"No!" Bonnie said, shaking her head for emphasis. "On both counts. Damon's fine."

"So he hasn't been trying to kiss you?" Stefan said in a quick rush of words that had Bonnie's eyebrows lifting.

"What? Where-why-why would you think that?" She blinked rapidly with each word that trembled out of her lips. She sat on her hands to keep them from shaking and tried again, "He doesn't want to kiss me." _It's just the spell talking – well, kissing – well, trying to kiss_.

When Bonnie shook her head as if to free herself of some troubling thought or memory, Stefan decided not to push it. "Don't get me wrong, I think you'd make a... cute couple."

"What?" Bonnie laughed delicately, her voice bouncing off the walls in a sweet melody. "Me and Damon?"

"Sure, why not?" Stefan shrugged. "You'd be a vast improvement on his last girlfriend."

_Just not his latest crush._ "It's not like that," Bonnie smiled, scrunching her nose and shaking her head. "But we're getting along. It's kind of a research thing."

"Kiwis?" Stefan deadpanned, crossing his arms in front of him as he leaned back in his chair.

"It's a spell." Bonnie said, seriously. She waited to gauge Stefan's expression, but he was unreadable. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked up at her as if to say – _Go on._

"It's one of Emily's," Bonnie said quickly, "He's just been helping me figure out its limits."

"From what I've seen, you cast the spell, and he can hear you asking him to come to wherever you are?"

"Something like that," Bonnie smiled. "Supernatural hide and seek."

"Is it dangerous?" Stefan asked, holding her eyes with his.

"No," Bonnie said. "We're safe."

Stefan smiled. "It's good that you're fully exploring your talents, Bonnie. It's a gift that takes practice."

"You sound like Grams," Bonnie smiled at Stefan.

When he returned her smile without asking any more questions, she felt a serene calm settle between them. Bonnie glanced around the room nervously before she took and deep breath and confided in a low voice: "There's something about the spell, Stefan, that I haven't told _anyone_."

"What is it, Bonnie?" Stefan whispered very lowly when she remained silent. She seemed to be waiting for a sign from him, so he nodded as if in affirmation that Damon couldn't hear them.

"I can't keep it up," She explained. "I don't think it's as simple as the grimoire made it seem."

"What kind of a spell is it?" Stefan asked, "Maybe I've seen it before."

"No," Bonnie shook her head. "You haven't, trust me. It has _strange_ side effects."

"Such as?"

Bonnie shifted nervously, unable to find the right words to express the situations. "Sniffing oranges?"

Stefan smiled, debating whether or not to let her know Damon's infatuation was probably not something she could conjure up with a spell book and candles, when she continued: "And then there's, well – look."

Bonnie slipped her hands from underneath her and raised them between them. She was shaking, as if as fragile as a leaf in the trees."

"It's too powerful." Stefan concluded, but Bonnie shook her head insistently.

"Something like that," Bonnie said, clasping them quickly in front of her as she heard Damon's footsteps down the stairs. "But you can't tell. I'm – we're – figuring it out."

"Bonnie, if it's affecting your health," Stefan cautioned, "Maybe you should just stop."

"I can't."

"You _can_."

Bonnie smiled sadly as she took in Stefan's concerned face. Damon threw the door open behind them in a terrible mood – she could almost see the scowl that had undoubtedly etched its way across his familiar features. Stefan frowned at Bonnie – Damon's sudden presence had saved her from having to give the answer they both knew she would have: _I don't want to._

**BDBDBD**

Damon gritted his teeth behind the wheel as he drove to their spot slightly faster than usual. _You'd make a cute couple_? What the hell was that, Stefan? What did he care who Damon was kissing, as long as it wasn't Elena? But what frustrated him more – what really got to him – was what she had said before the anger clouded his mind and their voices dropped too low for him to make them out: "It's not like that."

"Aren't we driving a little fast?" Bonnie muttered, gripping her seat belt tightly in her hands as she kept her eyes glued to the road. "We're not both already dead, you know."

"Shut up," Damon bit out, speeding up even more.

"Damon!" Bonnie said, her voice carrying his name with a sudden frightened urgency that sent a thrill through his body. Her heart was pounding in her fragile chest, beating out a frantic rhythm that was an exhilarating soundtrack to their cruise down the empty stretch of highway. She was pumping out all sorts of intoxicating scents: tangy strawberries from her neck, spicy mangoes from her wrists – not to mention all the dizzying hormones that were just asking – no, begging – him to pull over on a deserted avenue and devour her.

"Can you slow down, please?" She asked softly, obviously trying to keep her voice under control.

Damon slowed in response, and pulled up sharply to the side of the road. They had been driving for hours, and he didn't seem to be calming down as it fast approached midnight. His body was itching for something delicious to sooth his throat – bourbon or blood, whichever he could get to first. He saw Bonnie bite her lip from the corner of his eye, and he shook the cravings from his head.

"No spell tonight," Damon said. Glancing around, he realized how far they were from the town – how far Bonnie would have to run, how long she'd have to hide if he did give in to the cravings. How impossible it would be to get her to a hospital when he bled her dry – like he knew he would when he felt her metallic taste sliding smoothly against his tongue. He clenched his teeth and bit back the predator inside him.

"Why not?" Bonnie said, sliding her hands into her pockets and suppressing a shiver. Had he heard her conversation with Stefan? Was he worried about her?

"Because I'm not _interested_ in feeling your insignificant feelings," Damon growled. Especially as they related to Saint Stefan.

Bonnie made a face, "Maybe I'm interested in yours."

"I don't have feelings." Damon deadpanned.

"Oh, shut up," Bonnie waved him off lightly, alarmed by the persistence behind the edge in his voice. "By the way, could you have picked a creepier spot to strand us in?"

"Scared I'll attack you?" Damon challenged ferociously, turning to glare at her with his wide, maniac eyes that she found so creepily alluring.

"No," Bonnie's face contorted with laughter, as if that was the most ridiculous idea. She hit him very lightly upside the head and let her hand rest on his shoulder as her giggles subsided. "Just don't like lonely highways. What kind of creeps hang out on deserted roadways, anyway?"

She let her teasing eyes fall on Damon's face, waiting for it to break into a smile when he closed his eyes tiredly: "What kind of creep could _I _not fend off?"

"Good point," Bonnie said, tapping her finger idly against his exposed neck without noticing. She tugged lightly on his hair as she gauged her next words in an attempt to make him laugh, "You did do a good job with Tyler."

"That's right." Damon's eyes began to droop with the feel of Bonnie's light hands in his hair. "Can't touch what's not theirs."

"So protective," Bonnie teased, twisting his hair at the nape of his neck around her fingers in light curls. When he leaned against her hand in encouragement and closed his eyes, her eyes widened as she noticed that she had been tugging at his hair. When she made a move to stop, he frowned in response, so she let her hand rest on his shoulder as she continued.

Neither spoke as Bonnie continued her ministrations, and a light rain started to pour around them. The fog crept up next – enveloping the car as if in a cloud in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Let's stay here." Damon said with his eyes still closed, reaching out for her other hand. There was something so comforting about the freedom to touch and be touched that Bonnie made a mental note not to let it get too far. "I don't want to go back to the Boarding House."

"Sleep in the car?" Bonnie asked sceptically, "I have school tomorrow."

"Who studies on a Friday," Damon said as a smirk played across his face. Even with his eyes closed, Bonnie knew the thoughts that danced in his head before he spoke: "We could always go back to your place."

"Nice try," Bonnie said. "You could always drop me home and go on your merry way."

Damon opened his eyes and turned to her in mock indignation, "And drive in this fog? Really, Miss Bennett, do you not care at all for my well being?"

"You made the fog, Damon," Bonnie deadpanned with an unimpressed expression. She gestured outside the windows: "You can unmake it."

"Nope," Damon said, grabbing her hand and returning it to his hair, "I like it here."

"Well, I don't." Bonnie retorted with a pout.

"Lying doesn't become you," Damon chastised her with a grin. "I can hear your heart pounding in my presence."

"That's—" Bonnie began, trying to will her heart to stop beating even as it kicked up nervously as he examined her from the corner of his eye, "That's just frustration!"

"Frustration never smelled so good." Damon returned, licking his lips.

"Are you trying to threaten me?" Bonnie asked with an arched brow, tugging sharply on his hair, "Because I'm not scared of you."

With vampire speed, Damon was towering over her, pressing her back against the passenger side window. "How about now?"

"Not even a little bit." Bonnie said in the same bored expression. He grabbed her by the shoulders and suddenly, she found herself – slightly stinging on her calf from the awkward transition – on her back in the backseat with a vampire leaning over her.

"And now?" Damon asked on a growl, his voice deeper as his breath bounced off of the curves of her face. His face contorted with grotesque black lines, his fangs extended to brush against the taut skin at her neck where her pulse sang out to him: _Can you hear my call?_

"Nope." Bonnie said, meeting his eyes with her own. She had never seen Damon like this before – not really, not hovering over her, looking her in the eye, and giving her a moment to breath before he threatened to rip her throat out. His grip on her arms was tight, and he didn't attempt to shelter her from the weight of his entire body as he leaned over her.

Damon shifted his weight to one arm, and placed his free hand directly on top of Bonnie's hammering heart. She trembled under his touch, and he growled out: "So if that's not fear..."

Bonnie reached up towards him, not moving her eyes from his, and cradled his face in her palm. She felt the tight, rough skin as it pumped the craving throughout his body. She traced the lines with her fingers – entranced by how what had been such a terrifying, haunting image had become so fragile and beautiful now that she _knew_ him.

Damon leaned into Bonnie's welcome touch. More than the mangoes at her wrists, her blood was not as intoxicating – not as necessary – as the soothing feeling of her skin against his vampiric flesh. No one had touched him like that before – no one had raised their lips to his cheekbones like she did with slight hesitation, to bring him back to life.

As she lay light kisses on his cheekbones, Bonnie could feel him shifting back into the handsome, ex-soldier and current womanizing playboy she knew and loved – well, liked – well, tolerated. She grinned to herself at her thoughts, and brought a hand up to trace the edges of his jawline. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her lips on his chin, and it was only a matter of seconds before he flipped them over so she was laying on top of him – in his arms, settled into the nook between his arm and chest.

Bonnie fisted her hand in Damon's shirt to keep it from trembling. She licked her lips, grateful for the reprieve from the spell. Not just because of what they had just experienced – but because she was exhausted physically. She was too tired to be afraid of death, and she was too tired to question why she found the beast so delicately enchanting. "Damon, I—"

"Shhh," Damon said, tracing circles into the small of her back. "I know – I can hear your heart."

"Is it racing?" Bonnie asked, knowing the answer before he spoke: "So fast."

"Is that for you?" Her voice quieted, but the sudden kick to her heart beat – the flood of emotions that came with the nervous anticipation – was deafening. The fruity, tangy scent of her flooded his nostrils and danced tauntingly in his mouth. He could lean forward, he knew, and capture her lips in his – but he didn't think she'd forgive him for it. And to end their spell bound friendship? He couldn't forgive himself.

"Better be," Damon quipped. "Now go to sleep."

"Watch out for monsters," Bonnie said on a yawn, snuggling closer into Damon's arms as her eyes drooped closed.

"Inside the car or out?" Damon asked wryly, but Bonnie was too tired to respond with anything but a murmur.

The next morning, as Damon drove Bonnie back to her home to take a quick shower before school, he felt inspired by the content and sleepy smile that graced her lips.

"We always go to the manor," Damon said, "Let's do something you want."

A slow smile crept across Bonnie's face, "Anything I want?"

Damon wiggled his eyebrows, "Anything."

"Oh, you're not going to like this," Bonnie laughed, clapping her hands together in excitement.

"No threesomes with Grams, please." Damon said.

"Shut up," Bonnie laughed, too excited to be bothered by his morose attempt at humour. "Best history project ever."

As they pulled up to the house, Damon tapped his head as if remembering something important. "Bonnie – Saturday night. I need you to call me at seven o'clock. No later."

"Okay," Bonnie said, her face contorting in confusion. "Why seven?"

"Just call me," Damon said with an impatient gravity that Bonnie just nodded in response: "Okay, it's a date."

**BDBDBDBD**

Stefan frowned at Elena that Friday night, hoping she wouldn't repeat the words that she did: "You're not giving him a chance."

"He's had a century of chances, Elena." Stefan said opposite her at the Mystic Grille.

"I'm not saying he's a terrible person," Caroline said, crossing her arms against her chest and pouting: "But besides compelling me, taking advantage of me _sexually_, and using Bonnie's Grams for his own illicit purposes – not to mention killing Tyler's uncle, and your boyfriend's best vamp friend – he basically killed Jeremy."

"He knew he was wearing the ring," Elena explained. "The way we treated him at the Grille – the way we just, shut him out from everything – isn't that a little unfair? He pretty much locked the love of his life in a tomb for us – he's hurting too."

"He is." Stefan agreed, "And if I knew a way to help him, I would. He's finding his own way."

"Freezing him out isn't helping." Elena said, shaking her head. "He and Bonnie are acting stranger than usual."

Stefan kept a straight, expressionless face as he took a sip of his coffee: "Are they?"

Caroline sighed, "Look, I am willing to play nice with him – but you can't ask me to completely trust him. I have Tyler to think of."

"He won't hurt Tyler." Stefan said, adopting a more serious tone.

"You say that because you won't _let_ him," Elena snapped, "not because you actually think he won't."

Caroline opened her mouth to reply, but Stefan silenced her with a motion of his hand. "Your big heart, Elena – it's one of the things I love most about you. I just want you, and everyone you care about, to be safe."

"Well, I care about Damon." Elena said, meeting Stefan's eyes. She thought she saw a flicker of jealousy, and was glad she hadn't used the word _love_. "And I think we owe it to him to stop suspecting every little thing he does."

"Love isn't always about cutting someone some slack," Bonnie said, sliding in beside Caroline with drinks in hand. "Sometimes, love is about holding someone who you know is capable of better, to a higher standard, and not letting them get away with being less than they are."

Elena shook her head, "You're wrong, Bonnie. Love means never having to say you're sorry."

"Love is making sure someone has enough heart to _feel_ sorry." Bonnie said, meeting her glare. The girls frowned at each other for a moment until Bonnie tilted her head and let out an airy laugh. "You all are so serious. Who are we talking about, anyway?"

"Tyler." Caroline said quickly. "He... stood me up last night. Elena thinks I should forgive him."

Elena opened her mouth to reply, but Stefan cut her off: "If only there was a spell for that – that could make him just _show up_ whenever she wanted."

"If only," Bonnie grinned at Caroline. "I'll work on that one for you."

Caroline smiled at her friend and shook her head.

"Sounds simple enough," A new voice announced its presence at the table. Damon slide easily into the booth beside Bonnie. From under the table, his finger slid up the length of her thigh to hook in her jean pocket. She forced herself to keep a straight face – to not let the tingly butterflies that were creeping their way through her body – to show, when he turned to her with a playful grin and said: "Did you try, "here, doggy, doggy?" – or wait, "stay" and "sit"?"

Damon turned to see Caroline's annoyed expression, and continued: "He _is_ house trained, right?"

"Damon!" Elena and Caroline exclaimed at the same time as a smile crept at Stefan's face. Damon tugged on Bonnie's jeans pocket, and she tensed noticeably as she forced herself to look anywhere but at him.

Caroline looked at Stefan angrily for a moment before bursting into a grin herself. "Well, he is an animal in all the right ways."

"Caroline!" Elena laughed melodiously. Stefan swung his arm around her and she settled comfortably into it as the chatter continued for a few more minutes before Damon excused himself.

"Well, I'm off; can only take so much of this faux-teenage drivel." Damon said, reaching into his pocket under the table and shoving something roughly into Bonnie's hands. He left as quickly as he arrived, without even sparing a glance behind him as Bonnie watched him from the corner of her eye.

When she turned her sight back to the table, she noticed Elena was staring at Damon too. Bonnie frowned, accidentally crushing in her fists whatever it was that Damon handed her.

"So, are we still on for tomorrow night?" Caroline chirped in, turning to Elena before adding hurriedly – "Bonnie, you should come too!"

"I'm busy tomorrow." Elena and Bonnie said at the same time, forcing them to exchange puzzled looks with each other.

Caroline rolled her eyes, "I thought we had plans for seven!"

"Don't look at me," Bonnie raised her hands defensively, "I am only just hearing about this."

"You wouldn't be if you weren't missing half the time," Caroline pouted sweetly. Bonnie hugged her friend, resting her head on her shoulder: "Sorry, Caro, you know how it is – magic practice and all."

"Guess I can't argue with that," Caroline sighed, not noticing how Bonnie avoided Stefan's careful gaze. "Elena, explain yourself."

Elena turned to Stefan with a smile, "Damon wanted to talk to me about something."

"He did?" Bonnie said, her jaw feeling suddenly slack. She had to force herself to close her mouth to keep from looking utterly ridiculous.

"How long could that take?" Caroline complained. "You'll be done by seven."

"We're meeting at seven, actually," Elena explained. "We're going to dinner."

"And you're okay with this?" Bonnie exclaimed suddenly, glaring at Stefan. She was pleading him, with her eyes, for some back up – some support.

"I trust Elena," Stefan smiled, draping his arm over his girlfriend as she cuddled into his embrace. "Are you not okay with it?"

Elena's and Caroline's eyes both snapped instantly to Bonnie as her own widened. "I don't care how Elena chooses to waste her time."

"Damon's not a waste of time." Elena said dismissively before turning to Caroline, "Girls night afterwards? Nine?"

The rest of the conversation dulled and blurred as Bonnie tried to catch her breath. She felt like she'd been kicked in the chest with the boot of a brute, with his vampire smirk and his eloquent rhetoric. She forced herself not to slump – not to give in to the feeling of caving in that tugged harshly at her chest. The butterflies were colliding with each other – wings tearing and falling to the pit of her stomach like dusty confetti. It wasn't until she looked down to hide the sting of angry tears that she noticed the crushed remnants of Damon's gift in her hands – the flower was as limp, lifeless and shredded as she felt.

**BDBDBDBD**

_So kiss me hard, 'cause this will be the last time that I let you_

"_This_ is what you want to do?" Damon arched an eyebrow as Bonnie turned the radio on. She was glowing a faint, murmuring combination of bronze and black: she lacked the sparkle that usually accompanied her surprises.

"Yes," she announced with a distracted smile. She pointed to the radio before she pulled long black gloves on. She was wearing a little black dress with black pantyhose and low heels; and the gloves came up above her elbows to cover most of the rest of her arms. She looked ridiculous. "Pick a station."

"As you wish," Damon nodded with a slight bow. He had to admit – the caution she took to not touch him, especially after last night – was adorable. He skipped through the stations quickly before settling on a familiar, slow tune: _Girl, I'm in love with you – this ain't the honey moon, past the infatuation stage._

He reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to him before Bonnie had a chance to respond. He spun her around, watching the black edges of her glow spin out and fizz in the air. When he caught her eye, she was smiling with hesitant amusement.

_Sometimes we get sick of love, seems like we argue every day._

He held her out in front of him, placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her movements as they slow danced with the precision of a soldier guiding his lady love across the dance floor. Bonnie was a quick study – she was matching his movements easily as they moved into the second verse. Soon, she wasn't looking at their feet at all, but had raised her eyes to meet his with pleasure.

"We never got our dance at my party," Bonnie explained, "And I figured you must be good."

"I'm great," Damon insisted, pulling her closer to him. He dropped her arm and both hands were resting on his hips. He shook his head, and moved just to grab her wrists and throw them over his shoulders to wrap around his neck, before placing his again on her hips. "But I never did like the whole barely touching part."

"Why's that?" Bonnie asked. She feigned innocence and bat her eyelashes to distract him from the sound of her swallowing hard as the image of topless Damon invaded her mind. She could feel the smooth, hard angles of his chest as he pressed her closer to him.

_This ain't a movie naw, no fairy tale conclusion ya'll, it gets more confusing every day._

Damon grinned wickedly, "And I thought you knew me."

"Not as a dancer," Bonnie pointed out. "Last time we fought."

"That's because you talk too much," Damon said, giving her a "prove me right" look as she opened her mouth to respond. Instead, she pursed her lips and tilted her head up in smug defiance. He dropped his eyes to those lips for a second – just a second – but when he looked up, the glow was back in full force: bronze and pink all tangled up and beckoning him forward.

"We're just ordinary people," Damon sang lowly into her ear. She shivered in his arms, and for once she was certain it was not due to the side effects of the spell, "Maybe we should take it slow."

He dipped her, and she laughed before he hovered above the line of her face and dragged his nose down, letting his breath hit her flesh. He was teasing her, not touching her. Damon inhaled the sweet light she emanated, letting the fruity bursts simmer and sizzle in his lungs. He wanted to bottle that glow and breathe it in like a fragrant drug when she wasn't around.

"What's ordinary about us?" Bonnie asked as the song came to an end, and the piano notes played out. She shifted in his embrace, but he didn't let her go as the next song came one.

"You're right," He said, "We're extraordinary."

"Maybe you are," Bonnie muttered, shifting her eyes. The dip in her glow was too obvious – and annoying – to ignore.

"So how does it feel to be in my arms?" He teased, "Everything you imagined?"

"Safe." Bonnie said without thinking. Damon grinned, not expecting a sincere answer.

"I do have amazing arms." Damon agreed.

"I don't know if it's your arms themselves that are amazing," Bonnie said thoughtfully, "Or your possessive ego that refuses to let anyone else near anything in their confines."

"It's the arms." Damon pronounced, dismissing her quip. "They turn you on."

"Shut up," Bonnie laughed, tossing her head back and letting the musical notes of her giggle blend with the radio. When he caught her eye again there was something else in them – something determined, something that refused to back down. "What about me, Damon?"

"What about you, witch?" Damon said easily.

She pinned him with the seriousness of her eyes, "How do I feel in your arms?"

Damon instinctively gripped the back of her dress in his hands, pulling it up slightly in the back and making Bonnie shift awkwardly. She clasped her hands behind her neck and raised her eyebrows expectantly. He tried to move her in the dance, but she held her ground.

"Good?" Damon offered, weakly. She didn't seem to be satisfied, so he let out an annoyed sigh: "Very good."

"I guess I'll take that," Bonnie whispered. She seemed to be moving even closer to him, sending a hundred new sensations sparking all over his body. He hadn't felt this way – just this way – in a hundred years. The nervous panic of a first kiss – the confidence boost that her drooping eyes and relaxed lips gave him – the frenzied fluttering in the pit of his stomach, the tightening of his muscles instinctively as her face came within scant inches of his own. It was all there: the human ecstasy of a simple pleasure of two people about to kiss, and with it, the tortured, desperate and destructive vampire urge to split her skin and suck her blood.

"What are you doing?" Damon asked, his voice barely a whisper as the smirk spread across his lips. Bonnie continued her ascent on her toes until she was standing at full height. She used his hand on her back to keep balance, and he made no motion to suggest he objected.

"Testing a theory?" She offered. Avoiding his gaze, her eyes scanned the lower half of his face. Casting Elena and the _Saturday, seven o'clock_ appointment from her mind, she followed the tune her heart drummed out.

"What do you really want, Bennett?" Damon said, more sternly this time, although his grip on her waist didn't loosen a bit. He could feel her heart pounding against her chest, and for the first time, he didn't want to find a part of her body to tap with his fangs. He felt her heart racing, and he responded as he would have when he was just a man. He pulled her up off the floor and spun her around until her back was pressed against the wall. He nudged her nose with his to pull an answer from her lips. The light contact sent a thrill of sparking relief through his body, and he had to suppress a growl that would betray just how much he wanted more.

"The same thing you do." She said. This time, she met his eyes with her own. His were so quizzical – so suspicious as they studied hers for an eternity. He was daring her to look away, she thought as she set her eyes with determination. "To feel."

Her voice was barely a whisper carried on her breath as it hit his lips, and it was tempting – so tempting to lower his face so his lips were just within her reach. His hand reached out between them to skim above her humming bird heart – not daring to touch her skin with his, lest the spell break and the glow dissolve around them before the moment had a chance to bloom. His hand continued its ascent up her neck, and around the curves of her chin – all the while, not touching her: just playing with the wisps of her hot pink and caramel glow as it wrapped around his hand and curved in tendrils around his fingers. He was so mesmerized by the sultry light she resonated that he almost missed the soft breath she released, or the way her eyes seemed to droop closed.

He smirked at the image before him, and couldn't help but say with a mocking tone: "But you'll break the spell."

"Spells are made to be broken," She said, inhaling deeply as her hand found the planes of his chest – searched for that spot where his heart used to beat. Damon relished the feeling of her heated, gloved fingers splayed against his dress shirt. He lowered his face to hover a breath from hers: "You've got to do better than that."

"How's this?" She whispered. And finally – finally – that sweet, citrusy scent exploded in a confused but exhilarating flurry of sensation as her lips found his.


	10. my gift is my song this one is for you

**AN: How much did I freaking love Damon on TVD saying he misses humanity? Seriously, Damon – I get you ;) But then again, I had "Gone with the wind" as the book Bonnie was looking at in the library, but I thought NAHH Damon wouldn't read that! Thanks for the amazing reviews! Just a warning - there might not be a chapter for a while, but I will try my best **

_it's a little bit funny, this feeling inside_

Damon could absorbed her delicious warmth pressed against his dress shirt as her fingers twisted and gripped the fabric tightly. He could see her eyes flutter closed with a strange sincerity that exploded the tugging cords at his heart and stomach into bright, sonorous lights; like plucking at harp strings. As her lips glided across his smoothly, and she grazed her teeth over them teasingly to beg for a response, he could feel the glorious hot, hot heat spilling from her warm body into his own. But most deliciously – most amazingly was her effervescent glow seeping into his mouth from her slightly parted lips, creeping into his nostrils, and enveloping him in her perimeter – as if he was a part of her an thus worthy of lighting up himself – that really did him in.

Bonnie's lips pressed forward lightly once more, and Damon's pushed back with triplicate force. He slid his mouth against hers, and swallowed hungrily the pleasured gasp that slid up from her throat. She met him with as much force and desperation – her hands flew up to clutch his hair, to tangle up at that sweet spot where she had been twisting strands around her fingers. And if he had been looking, he would have seen her leg pop up as she gave in to the overwhelming satisfaction of being locked in his arms.

He dragged his mouth across hers hungrily, needing to sample every last wisp of white hot light that steamed off of her body. That's what it looked like – not like teasing wisps, or a powerful glow – but like steam burning off her body as the tea light flames danced and jumped up around them. Damon tugged Bonnie's lip into his mouth and slid his tongue along it until he found hers. He wanted to explore every scant inch of her – every new scent and flavour her enchanted self could produce. He wanted to hear that songstress voice moaning his name into his ear. Damon twisted her dress in his hands at the small of her back and began sliding it up so slowly – exposing the flesh of her legs above her knees.

Bonnie slid her hands down from his hair and along his neck, made quick work of the buttons that were the only thing between her and that soldier's body of his. She splayed her fingers over his chest, and was startled by how quickly the cool flesh warmed and hummed under her touch. She pulled her name from his throat on a startled growl when she slid her hands under his shirt, up over his collar bone and down his long shoulders to expose his chest to her touch.

He had to let go of her for a moment to let his shirt hit the ground – but a moment was all it took. With their bodies wrenched apart, lost in the lust of the moment, the spell began to break. He took a steadying step back, squinting at her as her magical glow began to dull – leaving only a fleeting trace around her flushed face: she was still so breathtaking, humming with the moon's gentle light.

"Damon?" She whispered hesitantly, wrapping her arms around herself at the sudden cold. She took a step closer, but a gut-wrenching "No!" tore from his lips as he waved her off and stumbled backwards to grip the rails of the porch.

Damon's face was beginning to contort with the vampire's visage. His eyes darkened and twisting, black lines rose up under his skin, extending outwards. His muscles flexed and relaxed in the moonlight as he tried to control the sudden urge to sample the loud and taunting pulse at her throat. It was beckoning him with its rapid rhythm – her hair was still knotted in a messy up-do that revealed the planes and graceful curves of her sultry, unguarded neck. Then he took a deep breath and it was gone – he couldn't smell her blood, couldn't smell anything about her but the scent of her soap.

And then, suddenly, he could hear the rapid bound of her heart – the rushed breath from her lungs: he could _feel_ the effect their sudden kiss had on her, and it made him want her even more. His head was clouded over with the ways he wanted her – his vision blurred with the images of everything he wanted to do with her. Should he kiss her first – press her back against that wall and tear her dress off so he could feel her flushed skin against his? Or should he sample her first – her rich blood and its sumptuous surprises – but then, where should he start? Those mango wrists? The strawberries at her nape? The citrus scent that exploded all over her? Or should he satisfy a different kind of hunger all together, and start at the apex of her trembling legs?

"Are you ok?" The concern in Bonnie's voice snapped Damon's eyes into focus. She approached him slowly, lay a tentative hand against him and felt him shiver in response. The spell seemed to be stuttering with their coming-and-going touch – one second he was a vampire growling at her, the next she felt the invisible highway between them buzzing with the feel of each other's emotions.

"Bonnie..." Damon bit out, trapping her against the porch rail at vamp speed with his hands at either side of her. Bonnie extended her hands to cradle his face – traced the remnants of the rough, dark lines with her soft hands – and pull him slowly closer to her. Rising on her tiptoes again, she felt his hands leave the railing and skim her hips. She leaned forward to kiss him again, careful pecks at the corner of his mouth, and felt his grip tighten on her as he lifted her up.

"Ah!" Bonnie laughed, as he set her down to balance on the railing. She steadied herself with her hands on his arms, and when she looked back – the vampire threat was gone: the growl Damon uttered as he traced the curves of her cheek with his nose was a completely different kind of hunger.

"Bonnie," Damon tried again, using her voice and her name to pull him to safety. Her glow seemed to brighten with each touch of his lips to her skin – he could feel her emotions rising up in her chest, being mirrored in his own and threatening to spill out in pleasured sounds.

"Got it under control?" Bonnie asked as he trailed his face lower and started kissing and sucking at the nape of her neck. Delicious sparks flew up around her, and she let her head droop back – exposing more flesh, more pulse to the vampire. Closing her eyes, she threaded her fingers into his hair as he clutched the small of her back to keep her from falling over.

"I'm good," Damon said, smiling against her skin. She was glowing again, and as he nuzzled her pulse, he couldn't hear it beat.

"You _are_ good." Bonnie conceded. She let her legs fall open, and grabbed Damon by the belt loop. Tugging sharply, she pulled him closer to her until he was settled between her thighs. When she opened her eyes, they were enveloped in a misty cloud of fog that made her think, _cloud nine_.

But before she could think, Damon was on her again – spurred on by her compliment, by her greedy legs that kept him within her grasp. She flexed her legs against him subconsciously, and he was flushed with a disarming desire for the young witch. He grasped her mouth with his, shifted and tilted his face so he could feel her from every angle, every nook.

Bonnie had to blink several times to regain her senses. She ran her hands along Damon's strong, broad shoulders – let her fingers dip and dance between the nooks and crannies of his collar – and ran her splayed hands down the expanse of his chest to trace every masculine line. She felt his grip tighten on her, pull her closer – as she let her fingers skim underneath the waistband of his jeans. When a breathy grown escaped his throat, her mind snapped back to reality.

She whispered his name against his lips, breaking the kiss. She leaned her head against his chest for seconds, tried to wait for her heart to stop pounding furiously at all her pulse points to no avail. She slipped from the railing to stand on her feet, and Damon pulled her into the circle of his arms, leaning his head forward to kiss her again, but she moved away – ducking out of his grasp with the advantage of surprise.

"Where are you going?" Damon said as she disappeared into the fog. Focusing his hearing on her heartbeat, he turned to face her as she moved along the porch. He turned around to scan the scene for her and began to make the fog dissipate between them, but still hang around them like a delicate curtain.

As Damon took a step forward, Bonnie took one back. She knew what she had to do – how she would really know what _Saturday, seven_ really meant to him. She hadn't expected things to go this far – hadn't expected to be so distracted by how good everything felt, how right, or how safe. She hadn't anticipated how those icy blue eyes could make her forget every moment they'd spent arguing, every twisting doubt and anxious insecurity – how, when she remained in those prisms, she felt like the most enchanting being on Earth. She looped her fingers into his belt loops again, kept him at arms' length and gave him a playful, flirtatious look – warning him not to come any closer. And then, she let go. Bonnie dropped her arms to the side and took one final step back: into her house.

"Invite me in," Damon smirked seductively, not taking his eyes off of hers. He reached up and pressed his hand against the barrier, his voice raspy and low when he muttered: "Come on, Bonnie."

"No," Bonnie said, biting her lip to keep the invitation from flying out. _Want to come in. Want to come in enough to break the barrier!_

But her glow was fading fast – the light was dissolving into her skin – he would only be spellbound for seconds more. Damon continued with the same focused, seductive voice sending a shiver through her body: "Let me have you."

Bonnie was certain he could hear her heart beating – it was pounding something ferocious against her chest, as if it was leaping out of her to be with him. She was certain he could sense how much she wanted him to cross the threshold, how her whole body was humming with delight from his touch. Only moments outside of his arms, she was trembling and shaking from the absence of his strange, seductive heat. Really, she couldn't be blamed by the words that slipped out next: "Okay. Have me."

Damon felt the switch click as soon as her voice registered. _Have me_ – don't mind if I do! He lunged forward towards her, arms extended and ready to crush her delicious, magical body into him. But he was thrust back with equal force – landing roughly against the porch stairs and tumbling down. He was up again less than a second later, rushing toward her door – but nothing. _Nothing_. He tried again, and felt like he was walking into a brick wall.

"Bonnie!" He said in a menacing voice, glaring at the young witch as she trembled on the other side of the door and wrapped her arms around her upper half for coverage, "Let me in, just invite me in!"

"No," she said – so softly that he thought he imagined it until she started shaking her head. When the anger cleared from his vision, he saw the tear that spilled with a blink and felt instantly sorry about not being able to do the one thing – the _one_ thing – that would have made her his. He shook his head at her in disbelief – she couldn't just leave him like this! He wanted her; he needed her. He opened his mind to speak, but the sound of her sniffling back tears stopped him. "You don't want to come in."

"I do," Damon said, his forehead creasing. He ran a hand through his hair roughly as she took another step inside, hiding behind the door and preparing to swing it closed, "I do!"

"Let's pretend this never happened," Bonnie said, shaking her head.

"Maybe the spell doesn't break barriers, Bennett!" Damon bit out in frustration, slamming his fist against the door frame. "Who gives a shit? Just let me in."

"Why?" Bonnie asked, glancing up at him, searching his eyes for he didn't know what.

"So we can finish." He muttered in monotone, meeting her eyes with sharp anger.

"Go home, Damon," she said, swinging the door closed in his face.

"Wait, Bonnie!" Damon called out from the other side, knocking on the door at vampire speed. "Let me in, will you?"

No response.

"Let's talk about this?"

Nothing.

"Bonnie," He growled, leaning his forehead against the door, "I want you."

Silence.

Damon turned around and crumpled against the other side of the door. His brain was rushing with the new sensations and images from the past few minutes. Resting his head against the door, he stifled the desire to call out a sharp insult or a witty remark she'd have to respond to – and listened instead.

The sound he heard from the other side was the saddest thing since Rose died in his arms. Bonnie was crying. Not really crying – not sobbing – just letting out shaky, controlled breaths and sniffling every few seconds, probably well aware of the fact that he was still there and could hear her. But what was sad was not the _Bonnie_ was crying; it was not that he had (somehow) made her upset; it was not even that he couldn't comfort her or calm her with tender kisses or open arms.

What made the moment drenched with sadness was the tug Damon felt at the center of his ribs – the heavy, anchoring tug that caved his shoulders in, and made him feel as empty, wanting and without as her tender lips had made him feel full and sated. Even without the spell, he was reflecting the sadness that she seemed to feel – even without the spell, he felt, for once, completely and utterly human – completely and utterly useless as he watched the woman he loved hurt.

Wait, a minute, Damon's eyes shot open – _he loved?_

**BDBDBDBDBD**

Saturday morning was disgusting. The fog hadn't lifted – if anything, it was thicker as Bonnie made her way to the window. She had been so conflicted – to call him, not to call him, to invite him in, not to invite him in, to look for him this morning, not to look for him – that it had taken her hours to fall asleep, trying to brush away the anxious knot that twisted at her heart.

Pulling her comforter off the bed with her, and frowning at the feel of the cold floor under her feet, Bonnie made her way to the window. Looking outside, she touched fingers idly to her lips – feeling a presence she shouldn't; a familiar warmth she should ignore – as she realized with a sigh that Damon wasn't there. By the time she stopped crying, decided to fling the door open and talk to him – or, well, yell at him – he was gone. And he hadn't come back.

Bonnie frowned, letting the comforter slide to the ground. Suddenly, she wasn't cold anymore. She was hot, burning up, lighting up – the light bulbs burst around her as she made her way from her bedroom to the bathroom. Angry and frustrated, her confusion steamed off of her with the cold water as it hit her skin.

He wasn't going to come in after her, huh? Well, then she'd just have to go get him.

**BDBDBDBD**

"Caroline!" Bonnie sang out, injecting a fake cheerful tone to her voice as she drove to the Grille.

"Hi Bonnie," Caroline said, followed by a muffled giggle and a whispered, "Tyler, stop it!"

Bonnie cleared her throat loudly, "Have you heard from Elena?"

"No," Caroline said, "I think she was doing something with Jeremy today."

"So she hasn't called you?"

"No," Caroline said, "I'll see her tonight after her thing with Damon, remember? You should come!"

"I would if I could, Caro," Bonnie said, "But I have to talk to Elena right away."

"Why?" Caroline was suddenly serious, "Did something happen?"

"No, not really," Bonnie admitted. "I ran into Damon last night."

"Oh, really?" Caroline teased.

"It wasn't like that," She bit out. "He was really scary, and threatening."

"Did he attack you?" Bonnie could practically see the cute, angry face Caroline was making.

"You could say that," Bonnie smirked. "But don't worry, I managed to fend him off."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she said, "Just, if you speak to Elena – could you let her know? Let her know that she has to be careful what she does, before something happens that she'll regret."

"What should I tell her?" Caroline asked, the sound of Tyler's voice muffled in the background asking her what was up.

"Tell her to stay away from Damon."

**BDBDBD**

"Damon." Bonnie said firmly. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Matt to shrug and speak in his charmingly slow – although right now, annoying! – rhythm.

"He hasn't been here today," Matt said, with a shrug.

"What about last night? Like, late last night?" Bonnie pushed.

"Not that I know of," Matt said, "Did he do something to you?"

Bonnie fidgeted with her scarf and tipped her chin up confidently, except her voice rose with it, "No! Why-why-why would you think that?"

"When else do you look for Damon," Matt quipped.

"What do you know, Mutt?" Bonnie barked, "Matt! Matt."

Matt raised a curious eyebrow at his friend, "He must have really messed up to piss you off like this."

"He did," Bonnie frowned. She took a steadying breath and gave Matt a friendly hug, "I'm sorry. Thanks for your help."

"Did you ask Elena?" Matt offered, "She's always at the Boarding House."

"Right," Bonnie forced a smile, "That was my next stop."

"Good luck," Matt smiled, "If you need me to beat him up, you know where to find me."

"You're so sweet," Bonnie smiled back genuinely, jumping slightly in surprise as the drink the bartender lit on fire for show burst into foot-high flames. "Uhhh, maybe you should go take care of that."

**BDBDBDBD**

"Bonnie..." Stefan opened the door apprehensively, his forehead creased as he stepped aside to let her in. Her hair was twisted into a tight ponytail, and her sharp, dark form fitting jacket, jeans and boots all reflected the tense determination on her face. The only hint of her softer side was the ruffled yellow chiffon top that she revealed as she shrugged the jacket off. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for Damon," Bonnie said, a bit more biting and sharp than she'd intended. She tugged on the thin scarf at her neck until it slid off. "We have to talk."

"He's not here," Stefan explained, his eyes following her as she made her way into the living room and slumped on the couch. He joined her quickly, not taking his eyes off of her. "I thought he was with you?"

Bonnie shifted under Stefan's steady gaze, "He didn't come home last night?"

"No," Stefan frowned.

"Where's Elena?" Bonnie asked quickly, more accusation in her voice than she intended. What was wrong with her today? She hurried on a rush of breath: "I mean, maybe she's heard from him since they were going to meet today. I wouldn't ask, but it's kind of an emergency."

"Is this about the spell?" Stefan asked, a small smirk threatening to break out on the corner of his lips. I guess they are brothers after all, Bonnie thought as she narrowed her eyes.

"Of course. What else would it be about?"

"I don't know," Stefan broke into a teasing grin now. He slouched in his chair, nodded at her. "That bruise on your neck – how did that happen?"

Bonnie's eyes shot open as she draped the scarf around her neck again, remember why she put it there in the first place. "Walked into a door."

"A door called Damon?"

"Something like that," Bonnie muttered, a blush rising to her face. She tried to disguise it behind an irritated snarl, but Stefan's deep laugh was contagious and she found herself biting her lip to keep herself from heating up with embarrassment. She didn't want to burn his house down!

"A door called Damon with lips?" Stefan teased. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

"Something like that," Bonnie repeated, clearing her throat.

"You're very dedicated to your research," Stefan said, teasingly commending her efforts as he dialled Elena. She opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with a finger to his lips. "Hi, Elena."

Stefan's face seemed to relax at the sound of his girlfriend's voice, but the sight only made Bonnie grind her teeth together harder. "I miss you, too," Stefan smiled and Bonnie shielded her rolling eyes from his sight. "So you are heading out to meet Damon soon?"

Stefan kept an eye on Bonnie as he spoke, studying the way her fingers flexed to tighten their grip on the couch. He wondered if she even realized what she was doing. "Are you sure it's still on, did he call? Oh, ok. Of course I trust you! Sure, I'll see you then. Love you too, 'Lena."

Stefan offered Bonnie a bright, faux-innocent smile. "He's fine, he called her."

"He called her." Bonnie deadpanned, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She dug her nails into her arms, and counted her deep, steady breaths to keep from setting the house on fire. "He called _her_."

"And not you." Stefan finished. He frowned, a bit concerned at Bonnie's extreme reaction. He had known from their conversation at dinner that she might be a tad jealous, but he didn't expect this. "What exactly is going on between you and Damon?"

Bonnie threw her hands up in defeat. "Nothing! Nothing at all, apparently. Nothing compared to," she made a disgusted face, and widened her eyes in maniacal mocking, "Elena."

"You even sound like Damon," Stefan gaped.

"I do not," Bonnie snapped, "Can you even hear me correctly over your brow furrowing?" As soon as the words were out, her hand flew up to her mouth as if to push them back in or stop any more from rushing out. She blushed furiously, feeling the heat overwhelm her – she could hear her own heart pounding in her head. She bit her lip in embarrassment as she looked at Stefan, expecting to see a hurt or offended expression.

But he was grinned. "Bonnie, _what_ kind of spell is this? Now you have to tell me."

"It's not the spell that's the problem," Bonnie admitted, her voice returning to its smooth, kind pitch. "The problem is – surprise, surprise – Damon."

"Well, let's start at the spell." Stefan suggested, getting up to sit closer to her on the couch. "He has been acting strangely lately, maybe it is influencing him?"

"Ha!" Bonnie laughed humourlessly. "It is definitely having an effect."

"What is it, Bonnie?" Stefan asked gently. His brooding forehead was actually a comfort to her, as he looked at her in sincere interest. He was worried, and it was touching – to be worried about again.

"It's a summoning spell," She muttered under her breath, hoping he wouldn't hear.

"A summoning spell?" Stefan yelled in surprise. "You're not strong enough for that!"

"Apparently I am," Bonnie smiled feebly, "I was trying for Grams, but I got our resident psychopath instead."

"You can summon vampires?" Stefan asked, arching a concerned brow.

"I don't know if the spell works on all vampires," Bonnie said, "But Damon for sure." _And maybe Katherine once upon a time_, but Stefan didn't need to know that.

"Summoning spells are never what they seem," Stefan warned, remembering how Bonnie's hands had been trembling recently. "You can't really give someone life again."

"We were trying to figure it out." Bonnie took a deep breath when Stefan nodded and continued: "The spell has a weird effect on him – I guess because he's only half dead – his human half. He gets kind of, well hilarious," she thought of him refusing to _look at you in that state_, "Sometimes he thinks he's still in the 1800s – he actually says nice things, it's pretty amusing," _I am a Southern gentleman._ "I mean, Stefan," she lowered her voice as a smirk splayed across her face, "he called me _Miss Bennett_ once."

Stefan chuckled. "That sounds like the old Damon I knew."

"Right," Bonnie continued, "Well, so basically the spell works until we... touch. That sounds more scandalous than it is!" She tightened the scarf's wrap around her neck when Stefan offered her a teasing hint of a smile, but he said nothing. "Anyway, last night things got... a bit, out of hand."

"He kissed you." Stefan said simply.

"Right." Bonnie said, fighting back the heat that rushed to her face at the memory of Damon's lips, Damon's throaty growl, Damon's strong arms – just, Damon. "And it didn't end well, and I guess we're in a fight, and I just wanted to talk to him before he went and did something _stupid_." Like kiss Elena instead.

"Damon can take care of himself." Stefan said cautiously, "What about you, Bonnie – are you okay?"

"I am," Bonnie said in a frustrated huff of breath, "Or I'm not, but I will be."

"You have feelings for him," Stefan pronounced. She opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut before any sound came out. She was having trouble finding the right words for once – she hadn't thought about it herself, how could she explain it to him? It was so much more complicated than having _feelings_! What does that even mean? Sure, she had feelings. For him. Some were hateful and angry. Some were lustful, craving and jealous. Some were, well, he made her laugh and he got the witch thing – so yeah, some were... fond. But then, some weren't even hers – some were his: some were his centuries worth of feelings bouncing around in the walls of her chest, and how could Stefan possibly expect her to know which was which, whose feelings were whose?

"You don't have to say anything," Stefan said. "You two are different around each other. He goes out of his way to see you, and you go out of your way to fetch him for your spells. At the very least, you _enjoy_ your time together." Bonnie fidgeted with her scarf again as he concluded: "And you don't have to worry about Elena – I trust her."

"I don't!" Bonnie blurted out, regretting it immediately but pressing forward anyway to keep the guilt from stopping her, "And I don't know why you do! Don't you ever get jealous?"

"I just want Elena to be happy," Stefan said, leaning back and raising his hands to calm her confrontational glare. "And I trust Damon."

"I don't." Bonnie said, lowering her head with the admission. When she looked up, her face was flushed with heat again. She got up from the couch and started making her way to the door. "Anyway, thanks for calling Elena. Look, don't tell her I said I don't trust her. I don't mean it."

Stefan nodded, not saying anything. He opened the door for her, and as she stepped out she turned and said: "Stefan, really, thanks for listening. You're so nice and not judgmental at all."

"Bonnie," Stefan said with a smile, "Why didn't you tell me what the spell was before?"

Bonnie shrugged. "I guess, I thought Damon would be upset? He doesn't want me to summon you."

"Could you summon me?" Stefan ask, more inquiring than requesting.

"I don't think so," Bonnie said, shaking her head. She paused pensively, "Well I'd need a token of yours, and we'd need to have a very strong emotional connection over something."

"What token did Damon give you?"

"Huh. None, I guess." Bonnie frowned, wondering how that had slipped her mind.

"Right," Stefan said, "And what do you two have a strong emotional connection over?"

"We hate each other." Bonnie shrugged, like it was obvious.

"Do you think Damon really _hates_ you still?" Stefan wondered if he was pushing too far.

"I don't know!" She threw her hands in the air. "Doesn't he?"

"Does he?"

"I never thought about it!" Bonnie lied, sounding like a whining child.

Stefan laughed at the frustration in her voice, "Maybe you should."

"Bye Stefan," she muttered as she made her way to the car. Why was he undermining the entire premise of her spell?

"Bye, Bonnie." Stefan smiled as he watched Bonnie drive off, undoubtedly heading for one of Damon's haunts. If he wasn't sure before, there was no denying it now – something was definitely going on between Bonnie and Damon that was a lot more than mutual tolerance. The only thing that troubled Stefan, though, was his brother's dinner date with his girlfriend – why spend time with Elena who he didn't have a chance with, when he could be kissing Miss Bennett?

**BDBDBD**

_My gift is my song, and this one is for you._

Bonnie kicked her door closed in frustration when she got home. She had almost expected – dared to hope that she'd find Damon lounging on her porch at 6:55 when he was supposed to be meeting Elena. But of course, he wasn't – he was at some fancy restaurant, treating her best friend to an expensive dinner after she let him bruise her neck with his kisses. She ripped her scarf from her throat angrily, and shrugged her jacket to the ground neck to it. She made a determined, focused line to the living room and began gathering all the candles in the house.

"You want to be summoned, huh?" Bonnie said, fighting back the anger that was stinging her eyes to tears. "You want to share our spell with her, huh? Oh, "_Bonnie don't summon Stefan – summon me, call me_" – me, me, me!" She said, watching the candles as they levitated in the air around her. She blinked, and they all burst simultaneously into flame of different heights in a dance of lights around her. "You want to be human around your precious Elena? Fine, you got it! And you can take all these miserable human feelings with you!"

Her brow creased as she closed her eyes and raised her hands above the candles. She knew they were rotating slowly around her from the shift of the heat in the room. She cut a marvellous image – lit up by candlelight, starting to glow with the last words of her song.

But it wasn't enough – she was still angry, she was still hurting. She took a deep breath, remembering Stefan's words: _I just want her to be happy_, and she felt overcome with the weight of a breaking heart. Bonnie didn't want to hurt them – didn't want Damon and Elena to hurt – didn't want to be the cause of their hurting. She just wanted to have a modicum of happiness for herself. She remembered Stefan's words, and the tune of her song changed: "_My gift is my song, and this one is for you._"

Tears streamed out of her face as sadness flexed its fist around her lungs, squeezing the air from her in tiny gasps as she tried to control her reaction. She was sad – so sad – that she was inadequate for Damon's all encompassing, passionate love. She was angry – so furious – that he had used her, that he had tricked her and let her think they had something beyond the spell. She was bubbling up like boiling water with feelings she couldn't identify – they faded too fast, shifted too suddenly – or quite simply, didn't know the name of.

She couldn't respond to all the feelings that flooded her, so she let them slip out of her in heated tears, and in the smooth and sweet tune of one of her favourite song. The sounds she made were melodic and spell binding – they were almost sighs, almost cries, but so sweet and operatic – large gusts of breath that didn't form words, that just carried the sound of her longing, of her needing, of her calling through the town to him.

**DBDBDBDB**

Damon grinned when he head Bonnie's voice – finally – reach out to him, through the windows of the restaurant, carried on a gust of sweet wind. He knew the words to the new tune she was calling out, and it sparked in him a new determination.

He was tickled with a sample of her feelings – all of them: the light and playful, the confused and desperate, the sweet and delicious sadness, the melancholy, the anger, the rage, the passion, the lust. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes as a self satisfied grin crawled over his face. He couldn't even hear Elena's inane babbling over Bonnie's sweet and sultry voice. The prospect of her heated feelings, which were already warming his cool body, becoming stronger with each step that brought him to her was almost too delicious of a promise to resist.

But he had brought Elena here for a reason. He opened his eyes to see her stringing spaghetti around a fork as she concluded her speech: "I'm just worried about you, Damon. I'm so glad you called me to talk."

"Right," Damon said. He furrowed his brow as one feeling started to tug insistently at his chest – he felt the sting of rejection. "Well, I have things to do so we'll have to make this quick."

"But we just started," Elena insisted, shaking her head in confusion. "I thought we had a lot to discuss."

"Discuss it with your boyfriend," Damon snapped, his leg starting to tap as the feeling of inadequacy, of worthlessness started to creep across his chest and clutch his heart. Is this what Bonnie was feeling? Or was this just what she wanted him to feel? "I came to tell you one thing."

"What?" Elena said, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"Tell your boyfriend," Damon began, clutching the table cloth as Bonnie's spell began to pluck at him like harp strings, "to keep his hands off of my witch."

"What?" Elena repeated, shocked.

"You heard me." Damon bit out, "I don't share what's mine."

"Bonnie?" Elena struggled to keep her voice from rising. "She hates you."

"Did she tell you that?" Damon snapped, his face snarling. "No, she hasn't recently, has she?" He smiled smugly at her.

"She said you attacked her last night." Elena challenged.

"I did," Damon said, amused enough to let a sexy, suggestive smirk spread across his features. "In a manner of speaking."

Elena gaped at Damon, struggling to find a response as he stood and slid easily from his seat. All of the windows in the restaurant blew open as a strong breeze kicked up, snuffing candles, and flooding the room with alarmed and annoyed cries.

"Better call Caroline and let her know you'll be over early." Damon said, "I have the strangest feeling Bonnie is looking for me."

**BDBDBDBD**

Damon was almost joyous as he approached the Bennett house. His anticipation of what was to come – of the feeling of her body sliding against his again – was enough to silence all the other emotions that raged inside him. The words of her new spell-song echoed in his mind: _how wonderful life is now you're in the world._ He wanted her, and no one else could have her.

But when he got to the Bennett house, the door was swaying in the wind – barely connected at the hinges. The whole living room was a mess of broken glass and candles that seemed to have fallen from a height. A few flames still trembled in the breeze, but the room was otherwise in ruin.

He scanned the perimeter quickly, checking for any sign of supernatural or human threat. There was no one. "Bonnie?" He called out, coming closer to peer in the door. Then he saw her – slumped to the side of the couch, her face barely animated with recognition of his presence. She squinted at him, acknowledged his presence with a shaking exhale.

The air was heavy with smoke and citrus: he could smell the trail of blood that leaked from her nose and dripped onto her lips. She raised her hand at him and he reached out towards her, stopping short when he realized: she hadn't invited him in.

She was lying there – limp and almost lifeless – he had to strain to hear her pulse trembling a weak beat – and he was out here, gaping at her, staring at the form of the woman he'd been kissing and caressing only a day before – and he was feeling it – Oh! He was feeling it – every last feeling that leaked from her body as the glow around her began to ebb and dim as her eyes began to droop closed.

But she was inside, and he was outside. And she hadn't invited him.

"Invite me in, Bonnie!" Damon cried, slamming his fists against the door frame. "Invite me in so I can help you." His face was contorted with the most serious, focused determination she had ever seen. He raised a hand to wipe furiously at the tear that threatened to spill from his eye at his utter helplessness.

"Damon," Bonnie began, a weak smile ghosting at her lips. But she never finished the sentence – she just closed her eyes in a fluttering of lash and lid – and slumped in a motionless mass to the ground.

Her voice rang out in his head: _When you want to come in, you will_.

"I want to!" Damon yelled into the wind, letting out a guttural sound as he charged at the door and was thrown back with equal force. "I'm human!" He screamed to no one, and charged again at vampire speed – but was pushed back just the same.

"Bonnie!" Damon cried, coming as close to the barrier as he could – resting his forehead on it. But she wasn't answering. He couldn't come in without her invitation, and she was lying there – broken and silent – overcome with the strength of the spell that she had cast for him.

The candles around Bonnie extinguished with a final shaky breath. The wind died down, and soon the town was still and silent. He could barely hear the hum of her pulse as it slowed, and grew quieter. Her caramel glow was all that was lighting up the room – and even that as slowly disappearing as if being absorbed into her skin. Bonnie was laying lifeless a mere ten feet before him, but Damon couldn't get to her.

Damon couldn't save her.


	11. the ghost of you

**AN: Thank you for the reviews, and for your patience! I'm sorry this chapter has less Bamon than usual, but I felt like it had to be done for the story to make sense =) Bear with me! The next chapter will be super Bamon filled to make up for what is missing here!**

_say goodbye to the hearts you break_

"Where is she?" Caroline demanded, her blonde curls bouncing as she came to a sudden halt at Damon's feet. He was sitting on the porch steps, bent over and clutching his chest dramatically. "Damon!" Caroline said, stomping her foot.

"Inside." Damon said, his forehead creasing in angry thought. His elbows were resting on his knees and he wrung his hands as he watched her disappear into the house and retrieve Bonnie.

"Thank goodness," Caroline said sweetly, as she emerged from the house cradling her friend. "Her heart is beating."

Damon had closed his eyes as he felt Caroline approach with her. A mischievous smile stretched across his face and his head rocked backwards in relief and pleasure as he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Not being able to hear her heartbeat – not being able to see the glow that just barely brought life to her caramel skin – had been torturous. As Caroline brought her closer, pressing her hand against her head and shaking it at the sudden heat she felt, Damon felt the taut string between him and his witch start to relax a bit. It was like reeling in a fish – the tension loosened, but the pull was still there; and thrash as he might to get away, he was hooked on her and either way – giving in to the draw of the spell to touch her, or struggling against its magnetic charm – he was already lost.

When Bonnie murmured and shifted in Caroline's arms, Damon's ears perked up and he turned his head to see Caroline soothing her with a gentle hand. "Give her here," he said, extending his arms towards the witch's hot, humming body.

The blond turned to scowl at Damon as she clutched Bonnie closer, "No!"

"I should have called Stefan," Damon muttered, turning his body to face Bonnie's. The young vampire kept her eyes trained on the older one, ready to retreat or attack depending on his next move. The fact that he hadn't already tried to grab Bonnie and finish her off, or whatever he was planning in that psychotic brain of his, was only adding to her suspicion. But when he continued to speak softly, she realized he wasn't talking to her: "I didn't know if you'd invited him in – I couldn't risk it."

"I called Stefan." Caroline said. How quickly the icey blue shifted from intense concern to concentrated rage with the mention of his brother's name. "Well, I told Elena too."

Damon lunged toward Caroline, but she darted away at vampire speed to the bottom of the stairs. The sudden pull of Bonnie away from him forced a loud, suffering groan out of his mouth as he doubled over and clutched his stomach. When he glanced up to squint at her through the tears of hurt and rage that clouded his vision, he saw Bonnie stir from her precarious place in Caroline's arms. "Give her to me," Damon said again – threatening this time.

"I don't think so." A voice came from behind Caroline.

"Stefan!" Caroline let out a sigh of relief. He came up to her and ran his hand soothingly on Bonnie's hair.

"It's alright, Bonnie," Stefan murmured into her hair, "We're going to get you out of here."

"Don't touch her." Damon barked, forcing himself up to move threateningly toward his brother. As he approached, he felt every flinch and jostle Bonnie felt as Caroline shifted her in her arms – each was as sharp and purposeful as the manipulated strings of a marionette doll. He struggled to retain the appearance of a normal gait as he got close enough to shove his brother aside. But although he used his full force, Stefan barely budged.

"Damon, what have you done?" Stefan frowned, crossing his arms in front of him.

"This wasn't my fault," Damon said. His mind was ringing with a thousand questions – his tongue was heavy with the urge to speak them, to scream them, to whisper them into the darkness and close his eyes and wait for an answer. But the loudest question of all was the one he dared not hear – the one he left floating above his rage at his powerlessness, his anger at his human limitations – he left that question alone because the thought of it, just the _thought_ of losing another one – more permanently than Katherine, than Elena – just the thought of losing Bonnie, made his insides feel like they were drying up and cracking like hard mud. The thought of never seeing the delicious pink glow hover around her cheeks – or hearing that melodious laugh again – or that condescending smirk that refused to laugh at his cruel jokes as the awkward silence ticked on and his mind rushed with ways to break that expression – made him want to take off his ring and go lay out in the sun. The worst thing was – truly, the _worst_ thing – was that he had done it. He had killed her, and he had made sure she was human. He had made sure that he was completely, utterly, uselessly human as he watched the woman he love die before his eyes –and he just _could not_ save her.

"You attacked her last night," Caroline said, silencing any doubt he dared to feel, "And now you're going to say you had nothing to do with this?"

"I can fix this," Damon said, the annoyance evident in his voice. "We just have to break the spell."

"They have to touch," Stefan whispered.

"He'll just hurt her again!" Caroline cried, shaking her head.

"I can still hurt her now," Damon challenged, an angry snarl twisting his features. He reached out towards Caroline, but she zipped further behind Stefan, jerking Damon forward and sending him falling to the ground with the force of Bonnie's sudden absence.

"What's happening to him?" Caroline whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

"I know you're a blonde, but try to keep up here – _it's the spell_," Damon bit out, staring accusingly at Caroline for the pain she was putting him through – just one touch, and this stupid spell can be over! But Caroline saw the anger as directed at Bonnie, and only held her friend closer as she started to murmur something in her arms.

"He's right - we need to break it." Stefan said, with an insistent nod. "But not here."

"The sooner we break it," Damon bit out, digging his fingers harder into his gut as he braced himself against the pain. He wasn't sure how much of the pain was his – the guilt, the regret, the frustration and helplessness, the physical torture distance from Bonnie brought – and how much was hers as she lay in a helpless fever pitch, unable even to tell them – to explain to them – that he needed to hold her. He needed to just reach out and touch her, clutch her to him, nuzzle her fevered temple, press his lips into her kiss and not let go until the spell was broken. "The sooner she'll recover."

"Maybe the spell is to protect her from Damon," Caroline pointed out.

Stefan shook his head, speaking quickly before Damon said something that would upset Caroline and endanger Bonnie, "It was a summoning spell – they were trying it out."

"How do you know?" Caroline and Damon said at the same time, although Caroline was inquisitive and Damon punctuated his remark with a growl.

"Bonnie came looking for him earlier," Stefan explained, walking slowly to stand between them, "She mentioned it."

"She told you." Damon said_._ A strong pang of betrayal lashed at his heart – if there were harp strings in his chest, they were stiffening and snapping to pieces. He glared at his younger brother, his blue eyes icier with the cool anger.

"She can summon vampires?" Caroline asked softly, "Like, make them human again?"

"Don't get your hopes up," Damon scoffed. "Even if she could, it only works on _me_."

"How do you break it?" Caroline spoke over Damon's muttered insults, speaking to Stefan and refusing to acknowledge Damon's presence.

"We take her back to the Boarding House," Stefan said to both of them, "Give her a chance to rest, and then they," Stefan paused nervously, "touch."

"I say we break it now," Damon said, his eyes steadily trained on Bonnie's wilted form, ignoring the sceptical look on Caroline's face.

"I don't know what to do," Caroline admitted, shaking her head. Bonnie turned in her arms and her lips moved as she struggled to speak, but her eyes were clenched shut. A tear slid down her cheek, and Caroline reached out to dry it. Her lips shifted again, and with their super hearing, Stefan and Caroline heard what Damon couldn't, and the plan was set.

Damon was confused by their sudden agreement as they started to hurry towards the Boarding House, leaving him to make his way by himself with his human limitations and the wrenching pain at his gut. He muttered a curse, but pressed forward – the promise of Bonnie resting in his arms as she recovered pushing him forward.

But Caroline's head was swimming with different thoughts altogether. With each step she took towards the Boarding House, she heard Bonnie's whispered cry more clearly and with more urgency: "_Damon"_

**BDBDBDBD**

When Bonnie opened her eyes, she was in a field of magenta flowers. Lying on her back, she squinted into the blaring sun as a few cottony clouds drifted in the breeze. Sitting up, she found herself in a white linen dress, with a chain of yellow flowers hanging at her chest where her scarf used to be. Inhaling deeply, Bonnie took in the aroma of the flowers, letting the air mingle with her tongue until she could almost taste the rich, heady perfume. When Bonnie instinctively put her hands up to protect her hair from the wind that kicked up and shook the petals, she realized the dark curls were clipped and pinned away from her face to cascade down her back – and tucked behind one ear was a magenta blossom - Damon's flower.

"Am I dead?" Bonnie whispered aloud, raising her hand to feel for a heartbeat.

She heard voices flood into her mind – names and words, so many words – but she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. They were falling from the sky to her, wrapping around her like a sweet fragrance you can't quite place. What were they saying?

She felt her body jolt and jostle, and suddenly she was overtaken with a warm, cozy, soothing feeling. The scent of the flowers was overwhelming – but wonderfully so. They were as rich, sultry and surprising as Damon's kisses – the sweet smell as languorous as his lips as they slanted across hers – the soft petals as surprisingly gentle as his touch as his body slid across hers. Bonnie closed her eyes and let the surroundings wrap her up in warmth as the clouds descended from the sky to envelop her in a foggy mist.

Opening her eyes on a slow exhale, Bonnie scanned her surreal surroundings and saw nothing but a tree in the distance. Dangling from one branch was a long, thick rope twisted into a swing. She made her way to it, pushing through the flowers, stomping on stems, and ignoring her white dress as it lifted up in the breeze and tangled up in her legs from her sudden speed. When she got to the swing, she looked around – walked around it three times – before realizing she was still alone. She sat on the rope swing, and leaned her forehead against the line as the tears started to spill from her eyes. She felt his rage –felt his hopelessness, his frustration – or was it hers? Either way, she felt so lonely – so distant and detached: he was so far, she couldn't see him.

Where was he? Wasn't he coming? Wasn't she calling him? Bonnie squinted, scanning the horizon for some sign of him – he should be here by now.

_Damon_, Bonnie thought as she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists,_ I'm waiting for you. Can't you hear my call?_

**BDBDBDBD**

_He calls the mansion not a house but a tomb_

When he caught up to Bonnie's body at the Boarding House, Damon threw the door open angrily, and glared at the blond vampire sitting on the stairs with her arms crossed – as if she could keep him from answering the call. Growling, he took a menacing step toward her, but Stefan put a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Soon enough, Damon," he said, handing him a glass of blood. Damon took it, eyeing both of them suspiciously as he swished the drink around for a moment without taking a sip. "Elena's just getting her settled."

"Did she wake up?" Damon asked, sceptically. He looked between the two vampires, and saw nothing but another line take its place on Stefan's brooding forehead.

"She's gotten worse," Caroline admitted hesitantly.

"I _told_ you!" Damon yelled, shoving Stefan off of him and heading toward the stairs.

"Let Elena finish!" Caroline insisted, holding an arm out to stop him. She adopted a pose of fearlessness, but behind her eyes was the shimmer of hesitant fear – a remnant of her human insecurity – that disgusted Damon. He opened his mouth to speak, but Stefan slammed him against the wall, pushing him up with his forearm and causing Damon to drop the glass as it shattered on the ground.

Stefan searched his brother's eyes, "Why are you so impatient?" When Damon said nothing, Stefan spoke to Caroline without taking his eyes off of his brother's which refused to meet his gaze – "Tell Elena she's finished."

"Okay," Caroline whispered, hurrying up the stairs and taking a familiar turn that Damon noted with a smug smile.

"She's in my room." Damon announced with a sick smile that reeked of self satisfaction. Stefan narrowed his eyes at his brother, taking his time before he spoke, "She wouldn't rest anywhere else."

Damon's smile spread into a disgusting grin, so Stefan shoved him lightly against the wall again to remind him who was in control of the situation. Stefan spoke lowly so Caroline couldn't overhear. "What happened tonight?"

"I don't know," Damon said, his eyes widening with wild anger as he over-emphasized every word. "I guess she got a bit too worked up about something." _Or someone_.

"She was pissed off at you," Stefan accused, "She came here looking for you. Didn't you ever think your stupid stunt with Elena would upset her?"

"Why should it?" Damon spat back, "Didn't upset you."

"I'm not in love with a psychopath who is in love with his brother's girlfriend," Stefan said simply, as Damon narrowed his eyes at him in contempt. Summoning all his strength, he shoved Stefan off of him, and Stefan made no move to resist or retaliate as he watched the older vampire double over in pain as if he'd been the one punched in the gut.

"Why would Bonnie want to summon _you_ anyway?" Stefan pressed, hoping he could nudge his brother into some kind of realization – some kind of revelation – that would explain the sudden hit to Bonnie's strength.

"Oh, get your own witch!" Damon snapped. He was over being threatened, interrogated, and chastised for what happened to Bonnie. What happened to Bonnie was him – he made her cast the spell again – but he didn't want _this_. He didn't want this cold, chilling, intense pain that made him feel like he was losing blood – like he was a human body in a battlefield somewhere shivering and dreaming of warmer days. He had wanted Bonnie and her steamy light, Bonnie and her caramel glow and her hot, hot lips lighting him up with a new kind of fire altogether. Now, feeling more apart from her than he had in days – he would give anything to just sit outside her door and listen to her steady if laboured breathing. But no – Elena and Caroline had decided that they would spend the evening at Bonnie's side trying to help her recover before they would let the older vampire anywhere near her.

"You can't_ own_ a witch," Stefan said, frowning. He took Damon in – the way he clutched his stomach, the way he leaned over as if in intense pain, and the way his voice was clipped and conserved as if speaking itself was taking a toll on him.

"_You_ can't," Damon said with an empty, cold chuckle, "Emily gave her to me. She's _mine_, and all her kids will be _mine_, and," he spoke slowly so his idiot brother would understand, "you can't touch her."

"I don't want to touch her." Stefan interrupted, but Damon spoke over him.

"If you touch her, I will rip your head off!" Damon growled. He could take Stefan – of course he could. He could take that little bossy blonde too – easily! As for Elena, she wouldn't dare stand in his way after she'd seen what he could do. But Bonnie – he could destroy her too, and that was the problem – that was the nagging, annoying tug at his gut that assured him that it was best to stay away until she recovered enough to fight him off.

"Stefan," Elena's voice floated in the air as she walked towards them. She glanced at Damon and offered a tight smile although she didn't allow her eyes to linger. "She seems to be resting. She's stopped talking in her sleep."

"What was she saying?" Damon asked, staring intensely at the brunette for an answer. There was something odd about her – something strange about her look that night.

Elena hesitated for a moment, reaching up to secure a magenta flower in her hair when realization struck him – she was wearing _Bonnie_'s blossom! "Something about taking pain, or-or sharing pain?" Elena offered as her expression shifted to sympathetic, "I'm sorry, Damon, I tried to listen, but she was _too_ quiet."

"Don't apologize to him," Caroline said, hopping down the stairs, and forcing her way past Stefan and Damon.

"What did she say, Blondie?" Damon spoke loudly, with exaggerated boredom, "Did I mention my sudden desire to abuse a dog? Or a certain Mutt?"

"I need you to take all the pain I cannot," Caroline said, crossing her arms in front of her with an annoyed pout, "Something like that."

"Take me to her," Damon insisted. His eyes grew wide and threatening as he towered over his brother. But he seemed gaunt and pale – like he was struggling with something that even Stefan couldn't help him with – and his menacing glare only made Stefan pity him. Elena moved to stand between them, but Stefan held out a hand to stop her.

"I can't do that," Stefan said. "You haven't eaten – who knows what will happen when those cravings come back in full force? Besides, Bonnie needs to rest."

"It hurts too much," Damon growled quietly so he couldn't be overheard. He gripped his stomach tightly to illustrate his point. Bonnie and her magic juju was more torturous than even the vervaine. "It's not me – it's the spell."

"We'll break it soon enough," Stefan said. "Just bear it for now."

"You don't get it," Damon gritted out, "It's hurting me _because_ it's hurting her. And it hurts _too much_."

"Let him see her." Elena spoke up suddenly. "Trust me."

Damon rolled his eyes and started to walk towards the room. "It's my house, my room, my witch – I really don't need the Justice League to give me permission." He got their fear – he understood the threat of his transforming into vamp form the second he saw her sweet glow – but he couldn't resist any longer.

The hunger was heavy and dry as he made bounding strides towards his room – it was like a fast or a famine, it was like watching the whole world fall apart around you, and the promise of a crisp, cool drink was just around the corner. Damon just wanted one more kiss, one more touch of her sweet, soft lips on his before she drifted into oblivion. But he wouldn't just press his lips to her for a sweet sip – he would drain her: he would leave her dry as bone, and her heart as broken and bruised as his.

He hesitated as he reached the door, feeling her body humming hotly from the other side. He couldn't risk it – couldn't chance being stuck like a useless human who his brother could shove around for all eternity; he couldn't risk never feeling her warm body against his again. He couldn't bear it, he thought with a shiver, if her glorious light dimmed and left her body as cold and corpse-like as his, her heart as rhythmless as his. Taking a steadying breath, Damon bit back his conflicted desire and threw the door open.

And there she was – lying in his big, king sized bed looking small and lonely by herself. Bonnie's eyes were shut in deep sleep, and she turned toward him with a soft, sleepy hum as he stepped inside. With each second he wasted staring at her beautiful, unbroken form, her glow seemed to buzz and spark back into life. Had the others not seen it? Had they not seen the firefly glow – the enticing, mouth watering heat – the tangy singe in the air that made the rest of the world so boring, dull and dark in comparison? Focused on her fragile form, Damon took a step forward before jumping back in sharp pain.

The pathway to Bonnie was lined with magenta flowers – they were everywhere: the same vervaine that had rendered him weak and exhausted with mere exposure was standing between him and his witch. Underneath her, the magenta petals were crushed into a stark contrast against her brown skin and the white sheets. She lay half covered by a thin white blanket that itself was smudged with crushed petal juice. The strings at his chest that Bonnie had plucked and played so soothingly were now twisted and taut like rubber bands poised to snap back and shatter him to pieces. She was just as untouchable, as unreachable, as she had been before.

"Not exactly what I meant when I said to keep Stefan away," Damon muttered, leaning against the door and crossing his arms in frustration.

**BDBDBDBD**

_All the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me_

Damon was biding his time for the real attack.

The sun had risen, and the little kiddies were making their way to school – undoubtedly lingering and hesitating in anticipation of the oncoming attack. But he had remained still for most of the night – after he realized the futility of trying to step over or through the large pile of blossoms, of trying to blow them out of his way or sweep them to the side – in deep thought about his next move. In time, his summoned humanity would overcome the effect of the vervaine – it was just a waiting game.

Twirling a flower in his hand, he noticed that his skin didn't decay or crack at the touch – just formed tiny paper cuts that didn't cause enough pain to make him stop. All it took after that was patience – just a matter of time until it was just Damon, and his physical, frustrating longing, and the witch – her beautiful, almost broken fragile form stretched languorously across his bed that looked oh, so big without him in it beside her.

Damon was more overwhelmed now by wanting than he had ever been – more a victim of the twisting, taunting pull than when he had spent a night apart from her. He wanted her more too: more than he did after sniffing oranges for days in anticipation of the explosion of her tangy scent when the spell broke – he could feel the itch creeping up to tinge his human qualities with darkness. He wouldn't be able to stop himself, he knew, from sinking his teeth into her smooth, seductive pulse and absorbing her glowing life into himself.

Bonnie's intoxicating glow had now built itself into a glittering, sparkling cloud of caramel orange-browns and hot, dusty pinks that twisted and melded with the aroma of the flowers. Damon's pain had reduced to a slow, throbbing and incessant yearning to be beside her. It was like they were soothing each other – feeding off of the other's energy, each taking the pain the other couldn't withstand on their own. With her big heart, Bonnie had turned his wrenching guilt and regret into the beautiful blossoming fireworks that drifted above her like a halo – and he had taken the physical sickness that almost stole her from him into his super-healing vampire body.

It was like a strange life-exchange – and maybe that was why he wanted her, craved her, wanted to taste her blood and skin and scent in every corner of his mouth – wanted to mould his hands over every heated curve of her body – because part of her was him, and part of him was her and all breaking the spell did was put the puzzle pieces back together.

One kiss wouldn't be enough, he thought shaking his head and flexing his fingers – one kiss couldn't possibly be enough to break this spell.

Taking a deep breath, Damon stood up and lunged forward. The flowers were piled high – Elena must have plucked and shred the entire little garden he'd discovered outside. They came up to his shins – the aromatic stench of vervaine and the tickling pain were dulled slightly by the spell. He trudged through them slowly, weakened by both the enchantment and his lack of feeding. But the closer he got, the less important the pain was. Because now he would have her – now he would have her in every way he had always wanted, from the safe confines of a bed – with no one else around (no prying eyes, no need for fog) – with no barriers she could hide behind to keep him from sampling every sultry sensation.

Bonnie let out a sweet whimper as Damon's body hit the bed. He saw the fracturing scratches crawl their way up his hands – in the corner of his mind, he shuddered at the pain he would be in if he turned while still atop them – but the hum of her seductive call was too loud for even that to register. She turned on the bed to face him, and he felt the butterflies surge – the bubbles were bursting in frantic, panicky fireworks all over his chest – he felt light headed and heavy at the same time – he felt his muscles tighten in anticipation, his mouth water – and yet, his lips were parched enough for him to slide his tongue across as he stared at her serene face. He _wanted_ her – and he didn't know how, and he didn't know what was him and what was the spell – but he wanted her, and he had waited so long – _so long_ – to be invited in, to be a welcome touch, to be a safe spot on which she rested his head – that it would be impossible to resist or question the electric lust now.

Damon lowered his face to Bonnie's, cradled her chin between his forefinger and thumb, and brought her delicate face within a breath of his. She was glowing more brightly now, and her body curled towards his warmth as he relaxed on top of the petals that left bruised imprints on his skin as the spell began to fade. He let out the grateful sigh and stroked her cheek absently, noting the light scent of her tangy blood in the air. Taking a deep breath and preparing to bite back the vampire cravings that threatened to overcome him, Damon threaded Bonnie's hair through his other hand and slowly raised her face to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

Bonnie felt her lips warm up as fire sparked to life behind her eyes. She felt the deep gratitude, the feeling of recovering something you thought you had lost forever, and the simple, honest lust that clouded Damon's mind with their kiss. She wanted to respond – was desperate to cling to his hair and his body, to feel his skin as it pressed impatiently against hers – but she was too weak still to do anything but flutter her eyes slightly open and stare at the man before her.

Looking more wretched than she felt, Damon offered her an encouraging smile as she looked at him. She tried to speak, but it came out more as a sleepy moan that had him wanting to kiss her more.

"There's my girl," Damon smiled at her, stroking her cheek.

Bonnie offered a small smile back, blinking her eyes rapidly as if trying to wake from a dream. He took her hand in his and laid a kiss against her palm before sprinkling kisses around her wrist and pulse point. She watched as his face contorted into the vampire's visage, as he forced it to shift back to something that wouldn't frighten her. "Damon," Bonnie said, and – as if she was summoning him – he found the strength to stifle the beast for another kiss.

With each kiss, he felt the spell fading – he could feel the sharp sting of the petals as he brushed them hurriedly off of him and off of the bed. He could feel his body responding in all the ways he thought it would – every muscle was humming with her presence, and he pulled her even more tightly against him. "Kisses aren't enough," he pronounced, pulling her closer by the hem of her oversized black shirt. Whatever surprise he felt at the realization that she was dressed in his clothes was lost to the moment as he ripped it off of her and felt his breath catch at the sight of her in simple cotton panties and nothing else.

Damon had figured he'd want her – after all, she was stunning, and incredibly sexy, especially when she was in the throes of a powerful spell – but he didn't figure for how much he'd need her. He had to drag his eyes from her exposed breasts to her green eyes to ask permission to touch her. This time he crushed his lips to hers. He kissed her until she kissed him back – and when she did, he laced his arms around and under her, pulling her tightly against his body. He broke their contact – their kiss – to pull his shirt off over his head.

Breaking the kiss to shed his own shirt – with a strange speed lost between human and vampire – Damon pulled her up against him again – bare skin to bare skin. Bonnie let out a choked sigh at the simple pleasure of his cool, hard chest against her feverish one. Damon growled like an animal, gripping her tightly at her hips, and letting his hands trail down her body to grab at her white panties.

His lips hovered just above hers as his face started to shift. He tore the panties from her form as he struggled to withstand the hunger. He could smell her blood, he could hear her heart beating – pounding – wanting him, wanting his touch – begging him to taste her. It was calling him – he felt intoxicated already by the delicious scent, by the promise of extraordinary relief if he could tap her vein and suck on her beautifully arched neck. Without realizing it, he ran his hands up and down her throat and fixated on her with longing. It was so sharp, and so strong – and she was so delicious and tempting and right there– that he couldn't help but trace the curve of her sweet collar with the tip of his fangs.

"...Hurting... m..e.." Bonnie choked out. Damon blinked rapidly, biting down to force the predator to retreat. But the cravings wouldn't disappear – all he could hear was her drumming heart – it was calling him: her pulse was screaming his name in perfect rhythmic beat: _Da-mon Da-mon Da-mon! _Damon felt his face twisted with the lust for her blood, and gritted his teeth hard against it. Her hand trembled as she reached out and slid it across his cheek. He held her palm there, leaning into it, focusing on the sweet relief of her fingers against his skin.

"I'm sorry," Damon said, his voice shaking with emotion, as he buried his face into the pillow beside her "I did this to you."

Bonnie shook her head and moved her lips, but no words came out. She stroked Damon's hair, and he could hear her pulse quickening – this time not in lust – in fear.

"Forgive me." Damon said earnestly, forcing himself to look into her eyes as his face shifted back to normal. He felt the burning, cracking heat of the vervaine he'd been exposed starting to make its way through his body. He shifted unhappily on the bed, knowing that in a matter of moments the spell would be broken completely and this delicate bond would end – leaving him completely vulnerable to the poison of the bed of flowers on which they rested. Bonnie shook her head again, and fell onto her back on the bed. Her eyelids fluttered, and she seemed to be fighting back a strong urge to sleep.

"Kissing isn't enough to break it all," Damon forced the words to come out normally as he reached out an arm to wrap around her and pull her up against him. He spooned her – her naked back to his naked chest – and felt the rushing feelings spill and crash into each other like a dizzying tempest. He closed his eyes against the emotions that spilled into him and leaked from him to dissolve into the air between them. He lay a kiss against the back of her shoulder, the nook of her collar, and the tender spot at the top of the back of her neck before settling down to nestle into her body more soundly.

As he felt the vervaine starting to take effect, Damon bit down hard against the desire to scream out or bolt from the bed in agony. He was too weak to move as he absorbed Bonnie's pain, as he was overwhelmed by the lack of feeding and the long exposure. All he could think was to break the spell – and he knew that the only way to do that completely was to touch as purely, and for as long a time as possible.

Closing his eyes against the impending pain, Damon took a deep breath of Bonnie's tangy scent and let himself drift into a deep sleep with her. Just before he lost consciousness, he felt her hand against his, pulling him to clasp her exposed breast over her heart beat. And in a sigh – "Damon... goodnight" – he let himself be lost from the world.

**BDBDBDBD**

Damon was dying.

That's all Bonnie could think when she felt his hand stiffen and shake against her chest. Her eyes snapped open with the sudden realization that the spell was broken – the nauseating, dizzying pull at the pit of her stomach was gone – that feeling of being without him had disappeared. She remembered his heated kisses as if seeing them through a foggy daze. But now her mind was clear, her body felt strong. Even though it had been a matter of minutes since the spell broke, she could feel the difference the snapping cord had made in her: it wasn't sucking the life out of her. But it had done something to Damon.

Sitting up suddenly, Bonnie felt a scream die in her throat as she shoved Damon's blackened, bruised body off of her. He rolled over with a light groan onto his side on the bed, and she look around – panicked – for some sort of explanation – when she caught the scent of the flower and it hit her. Someone had trapped Damon! Had forced him to crawl through poison to get to her!

And he'd done it, Bonnie thought with a strange, touched shock as a tear slid down her face. He'd done it for her.

Bonnie worked quickly – she started on Damon's side of the bed, shoving petals off the bed – watching as they kicked up in the air to spiral and skip before falling unceremoniously to the floor. She swept her hand across the sheets, trying to rid the bed of any remnants of vervaine – but the petals stained the bed and her body, until she was scared to even touch him.

"You suck at this," Damon grunted, his skin starting to slowly lose the black lines and patches of decay.

"What should I do?" Bonnie cried, wanting to cradle his face with her tinted fingers but knowing she shouldn't. Then – before he could summon the strength to answer – she narrowed her eyes, focused on all the flowers and had them levitating in the air. They would have been beautiful if they weren't so deadly – piles and piles of flowers and petals and blossoms took to the air, levitating in perfect stillness with Bonnie's focused stare.

"Look, Damon," Bonnie said, waiting for him to slowly turn his head and open his eyes before she squinted and burst them into bright flames. They singed into black charcoal that she glanced at and sent flying across the room and through the crack under door. Imagining a vervaine-tinged pile of soot against Damon's bedroom door, Bonnie laughed: "I guess that will keep Stefan from interrupting us."

But it wasn't enough. She was still covered in the nectar – and so was Damon, although his was body was very slowly decaying in reverse. "Damon," Bonnie said softly as she got off the bed. She tugged the sheets out from under him, bundling them in a pile on the floor in the corner of the room.

Not realizing that she was dressed in just her white panties, Bonnie stood over Damon and let out a confident smile as she steeled herself against the image of her – _friend?_ – in such intense, physical pain. "Come on, stinky," Bonnie said, grabbing him by the belt loops as she had once before, and tugging him to stand up. Damon slumped towards her, and he struggled to control his body – to focus his strength – into following Bonnie's moves. "Time to clean up."

With some effort, Bonnie managed to push Damon into his shower and turned the water on. She watched as it slid across his crumpled form – the rivulets taking their time (not that she would do it any differently, if she were them) to trace every outline of his quickly healing abdomen. She couldn't take his eyes off his angled back as he turned away from her under the spray. When he let out a content sigh as the last of the vervaine was washed off of his body, Bonnie felt a few fluttery butterflies creeping up her chest (must just be remnants of the spell – right?).

When Damon turned to face her, he had an arched brow and scheming smirk plastered on his face. Bonnie grinned widely in return – she felt herself blush at his concentrated gaze – but didn't have a chance to respond before he tugged her into the water with him.

"You're covered in it," Damon said, making a face. He let his eyes wander down her body – her delicious blush was heating up her skin all over – from her cheeks to the arcs of her collar bone to the valley between her breasts. Bonnie crossed her arms in front of herself, covering her body from his sight.

"Should have stayed covered in it," She muttered, "To keep you away."

"You don't want to do that." Damon teased. He ran his fingers along the inside of the waistband of his drenched jeans. Bonnie's eyes immediately followed his fingers, and she couldn't help but swallow as he popped the bottom off and let them fall down to pull around his legs. He stepped out of them, and was now matching her – except his boxers were, of course, black. She couldn't pull her eyes away – especially as the water hit him and moulded the fabric to the outline of his body.

Damon stepped closer to her, and she took a step back – quickly finding her back pressed against the glass walls of the shower. Damon lowered his mouth to kiss her, and she squeezed her eyes against it although she could feel – physically _feel_ – the electric sparks that were bursting in the little space between their chests. But when his lips finally met hers, and she let out the single most beautiful sound Damon had ever heard – lost somewhere between a moan, a whimper and a sigh of defeat – Bonnie knew he was right – she didn't want to keep him away.

Her hands reached up to pull him closer. She ran her hands along the crevices of his back, pulling his body as sharply against her own as she could. Damon groaned into her ear, and she shivered in response. He tugged on her ear with his teeth and his tongue, loving the sound of her heart beat as it whipped itself into a frenzied rhythm every time he touched her somewhere new.

As Damon's hands roamed down the curves of her body to being to slide her damp panties to the floor, his lips found all the beautiful corners of her neck and shoulders that he had been longing to sample. He tugged on her hair, and pulled her head back. "You know what's good medicine for vervaine?"

"Don't even think about it," Bonnie warned as he pressed his lips to her pulse. Damon felt the lust surge up and overcome him – he loved this feeling: when the sexual and vampiric hungers all wrapped up into one and he couldn't tell which was which – when it was so overwhelming that all you had to do was give in. But Bonnie pressed a stilling hand to his chest, and pushed him slightly off of her as she shivered in the cold air.

"Damon," Bonnie said in a strange warning as she held up a finger between them.

"What is it?" Damon growled, his mouth parted as it hovered over hers teasingly. His lips bent to graze hers, and she shivered involuntarily. Cupping her butt, Damon pulled Bonnie onto her tip toes so that their mouths were already practically entangled.

Bonnie shivered again, and turned her head, covering her mouth.

"What?" Damon growled, towering over her. He was dripping wet as the shower spray hit his back, but he didn't flinch. A single drop of water fell from the bridge of his nose to land on the crest of her upper lip. It trembled as she did beneath him, her eyes growing wider as he let a sexy smirk creep across his face. He grabbed his hand from in front of her face,

She sneezed. And sneezed. And sneezed. Damon dropped her hand and turned his face into the shower spray with a look of annoyed disgust. Bonnie sneezed again, shivering and wrapping her arms around her body. As if suddenly realizing she was naked, her cheeks lit up with a soft, heated blush and her heart started to pound in embarrassment.

"You're cold," Damon grunted, stepping out of the shower and throwing a robe at her. "Don't get sick _again_." He stepped out of his wet underwear, and left the room without looking back.

Bonnie tugged Damon's robe on quickly, tying it at the waist and feeling incredibly overwhelmed – and amused – but the size of it. It hung off of her like a big, black terry cloth gown and she frowned at how silly she must look in it. Trying to roll up the sleeves, she walked out to the room where Damon had already changed the sheets and was lying comfortably in the large bed. He offered her an exhausted smile, "You're so little."

"You're so big," Bonnie made a face.

"So the ladies tell me." Damon grinned.

"That was too easy," Bonnie said, unimpressed as she made her way to the bed still wrapped in his silky robe. He had put on clean underwear and lay with his arms splayed on the bed as if waiting for her to take her place curled up against his chest.

"Is that what the boys tell you?" Damon teased, laughing as she made an annoyed face by scrunching up her nose and shooting him a dirty look.

"You just wait until I'm strong enough to aneurysm you," she muttered, remaining awkwardly on the edge of the bed until Damon reached out and pulled her into his arms. He trapped her quickly in his embrace – throwing on arm over her, and curling his legs up behind hers. Bonnie was momentarily stunned – he was holding her like something precious – and she, well, she loved it. She loved the feel of his sturdy chest against her back, and his arm pulling her closer to him. She loved the feeling of being wanted – being needed, and cherished – even if it was a feeling, and not the truth.

Bonnie had never been held like this before, so she figured those bubbles bursting gleefully in the pit of her stomach were nothing but her body becoming accustomed to a new sensation.

"Just sleep," Damon muttered into her ear. "Your little spell exhausted me."

"You made me cast it!" Bonnie complained half heartedly with a yawn.

"You still have some explaining to do," Damon said, laying a kiss absently to the back of her head as she drifted into sleep.

WAIT! Was Damon just _kissing her_ without the spell being on? Bonnie mind jumped up in alert at the thought, and her eyes shot open. As if reading her mind, Damon let his hand fall unceremoniously on top of her face as he muttered, "You're naked and hot, what did you expect."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, pulling Damon's hand down so it rested against her stomach. Damon gripped her tightly, and pulled her body closer to his. They were safe for once – and strangely content. So precariously content, in fact, that Damon couldn't help but smile as he felt Bonnie's heart pitch and quicken as he pressed his hand against her chest, nuzzled the back of her neck and – on a sleepy yawn – whispered into her ear: "Goodnight, my witch."

So precariously content, in fact, that Bonnie didn't dare ask why Damon was touching her – all over, chest to back; leg to leg; muscular arms cradling her tightly – without the spell on, lest he realize it himself and walk away. Instead she pressed his hand more tightly to her heart and said, "Goodnight, my ghost."


	12. when I get you alone, you'll know

**AN:** **Thanks for all of the reviews! I was excited to write this – I thought the last chapter was a bit too dramatic, so this is lighter and a lot more fun **** I hate to do this again, but I'll be away for about two weeks, so there might not be an update until then. Enjoy!**

_See all these intrusions take us too long_

Bonnie was back in her strange dream. Her hair was clipped back from her face, falling in soft curls down her back. She was sitting on the rope swing, enjoying the feel of the sunshine and wind as she swayed gently back and forth in the sky. Closing her eyes, a content smile on her face, she suddenly loved the place where she had once felt so alone.

"Because I'm here," Damon's voice came from behind her. The swing suddenly stopped its motion, and Bonnie's eyes flew open in surprise. The chain of yellow flowers around her neck broke and petals fell softly to the ground.

"Damon?" Bonnie laughed, turning to look behind her. "What—Where are we? I thought I was sleeping."

"You are." Damon said. He looked down at her as she bent her head to look up at him. A charming smile played across his face, "You're dreaming. Why else would I be wearing this?"

Bonnie turned to see Damon in a ridiculous, billowy white shirt and let out a loud laugh. When he arched his eyebrows in a blatantly unamused expression, it only made Bonnie laugh harder until she was having a hard time staying on the swing. He nudged her back lightly on to her seat, helping her keep her balance.

"You look ridiculous," Bonnie grinned, appreciating the silliness of the image before her.

"You look beautiful," Damon replied, walking around her so that he was standing in front of her.

"So you're in my dream?" Bonnie quizzed, "Are you sure you're not part witch?"

Damon grinned, "I have a few tricks of my own." Walking forward, he pushed into her and forced the slide to tilt backwards as she was pushed towards the tree. He had that mischievous smile on his face that simultaneously thrilled and terrified her.

"What are you doing?" Bonnie asked as her back it the tree. He didn't respond, but just smirked instead and held her gaze as he gently nudged her legs open and came to stand between them. Stepping forward, he had trapped Bonnie's body in the perfect position: her back against the tree on a swing whose tension propelled her forward into Damon's waiting body, kept carefully between her steady legs.

Damon leaned down to kiss her, and was caught by surprise as Bonnie twisted one leg around his waist and pulled him even more flush against her body. Their eyes flitted across each other's faces – pausing to stare at lips, and cheeks, and eyes – until Damon finally lowered his already parted mouth to sample softly hers.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Bonnie's eyes snapped open at the sound of knocking at the bedroom door. She groaned slightly at the sharp angle of the light as it poured into the room. As she shifted to slide out of the bed, she heard Damon groan a complaint at the loss of her. She grabbed a pillow and pushed it in her place as Damon's arm reached out to grab her. With the vampire sweetly snuggling up to a pillow, Bonnie stifled a laugh at the strange image and tightened the robe around her body.

Still naked underneath it, she opened the door self consciously to find Stefan smiling on the other side. Leaning against the door frame, he held a cup of coffee in one hand and extended the other.

"Nice one with the ashes," Stefan handed Bonnie the coffee with a smile. Clearly that had been swept away – probably Elena's doing.

"Nice on with the flowers," Bonnie said, arching an eyebrow, "Except you almost killed your brother."

"We should talk," Stefan said, his face suddenly serious. Bonnie pulled the robe more tightly closed around her as she followed Stefan into the living room. Caroline and Elena were awaiting her – one sipping a glass of blood and biting her lip nervously, the other fidgeting anxiously. When Bonnie walked in, they both stood up sharply and hurried over to her.

"Are you ok?" Caroline asked, wrapping her arms around her friend.

"I'm much better," Bonnie smiled, "Thank you for the help."

Elena opened her mouth to speak, but Bonnie silenced her with an angry glare. She wasn't sure if it was the flowers, or left over humiliation from the dinner date that had her accusing: "Do you know what happens to a vampire when he has to _crawl_ through vervaine?" Bonnie challenged, setting her eyes accusingly at her best friends. "Did you really think a few flowers would keep Damon away from _me?_"

"I thought you hated each other!" Caroline frowned.

Bonnie stuttered, her lashes fluttering wildly, "I mean because of the spell – I could have died."

"I'm sorry about the flowers," Elena blurted out, concern etched on her forehead. "I was trying to protect you."

Bonnie let out a dramatic sigh and forced a smile, "You don't need to protect me from Damon, Elena. I can take care of myself."

"I was scared," Elena admitted, "Especially after you said he attacked you!" Oh right, Bonnie thought, mentally smacking herself in the head – this is why you should never tell a lie.

"I know you were only concerned about me," Bonnie said, "But Damon wouldn't hurt me."

"I underestimated him," Stefan admitted, patting Bonnie lightly on the back before moving to sit on the couch. Elena sat easily beside him as he threw an arm around her, "I didn't think he cared enough about you to crawl through_ vervaine_."

Bonnie coughed up her coffee. "W-what? You make it sound like we like each other."

"Don't you?" Stefan asked innocently.

"You definitely don't hate each other anymore," Caroline pointed out with a smile.

"We," Bonnie paused, trying to find the right word, "mutually tolerate each other."

"Right," Elena said, a smile playing at her lips, "I think it might be a _little_ bit more than that for Damon."

"Oranges." Stefan piped up.

"He thinks he owns you," Elena whispered conspiratorially, pleased when Bonnie's face lit up with a gentle blush.

"No one owns me," Bonnie said.

"You're kind of cute together," Caroline admitted grudgingly, "You are the only person who can send him to his knees."

"Yeah, that aneurysm spell was a good one," Bonnie laughed, thoughtfully. They don't get it, Bonnie thought as she shook her head, they don't get how the spell works. It makes Damon want her. He wouldn't want her normally – he wouldn't crawl through vervaine for her, he wouldn't curl up next to her in bed, or kiss her hotly in the shower – it was all the spell.

"Lay off the magic for a while," Stefan advised with a piercing look that had Bonnie hiding behind her coffee mug – as if he had been reading her thoughts, "Until you regain your strength."

"What was the spell?" Caroline asked suddenly, biting her lip nervously.

"It's a summoning spell," Bonnie admitted on a sigh, "It's a long story."

"Can you summon me?" Caroline asked, swallowing audibly.

"Oh, Caro..." Bonnie frowned, "I don't know, I can never seem to summon the person I want to."

"Except me," Damon said, announcing his presence with a charming smirk that didn't seem to quite light up his eyes. He leaned in the doorway, with crossed arms, glancing at the teenage crowd from the corner of his eye. Bonnie felt herself heat up, positive that even though he was looking at Elena as she began apologizing, that he was really concentrating on her from the corner of his eye.

"Anyway, I'm really sorry," Elena finished, "I thought I had to – to protect Bonnie."

"Of course," Damon said, his voice dripping with unimpressed condescension, "I'm the one who was writhing in pain," his eyes widened dramatically, "insisting that we break the spell _immediately_," he pushed off the wall and through his hands up in the air as if he was saying something ridiculous, "but why listen to me, right? I'm just _Damon_, not like Saint Stefan over here," he kicked Stefan as he walked past him to get a glass of blood. His throat was dry – it was either that or bust a vein, and as tempting as the latter was, Bonnie was sitting so awkwardly embarrassed right near the glasses. He brushed past her in an attempt to get that robe to fall just a little bit open, but she clutched it tighter and frowned at him.

"It's not their fault," Bonnie spoke up, "If you didn't make me cast that spell, I wouldn't have been in that position."

"First," Damon said, his brow focused in a pretence of thoughtfulness, "_You_ started this whole spell thing – don't blame that on me. And second, I didn't see you all day," Damon played genuine confusion very well, and Bonnie had to keep from rolling her eyes, "What could you possibly have been mad at?"

Stefan tried to keep from grinning, but a tight smile spread across his face. Elena and Caroline turned to look at Bonnie – the former trying to guess what Damon had done, the latter recalling their conversation on the phone and jumping up with an, "OH!"

Bonnie blinked rapidly, her mouth moving but no sound coming out as she tried to decide what to say (and how to say it). When Caroline jumped up and covered her mouth in realization, Bonnie was glad for the distraction. "Sorry, just," Caroline mumbled, sitting on the couch again, "Remembering something Tyler said."

Stefan laughed, trying to cover his mouth to hide his amusement. Caroline started giggling, and soon Elena was laughing too. Bonnie tried to join in awkwardly, which only made Stefan laugh louder. Damon raised an eyebrow at the gang and took a long sip of blood, keeping his eye trained on Bonnie as she clutched the robe closed and tried to press her legs even closer together. "Teenagers," Damon muttered, shaking his head.

"Clothes!" Caroline said suddenly, jumping up and walking over to grab Bonnie's hand. "We brought you some."

"We cleaned your house, too," Elena chirped up, standing with Caroline, "Just in case your dad comes home soon."

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Bonnie said with a genuine smile, "He won't be home for another week at least."

"Really?" Stefan said, with a fake concern in his voice that only Bonnie could see through as she levelled her gaze at him, guessing his next words before he said it: "Then you better just stay here then."

Bonnie opened her mouth to reply, but Elena expressed her approval, tugging her out of the room. Caroline followed behind, rattling off the cute outfit they had picked up for her to wear to school tomorrow. Stefan and Damon remained in the room, eyeing each other carefully in silence for a few moments.

"So you like Bonnie." Stefan said slowly.

"If you try that vervaine shit again," Damon said smoothly as he took another sip, "I will be binge drinking on Gilbert blood to recover."

"Point taken," Stefan muttered, clearing his throat and leaving the room.

"Yeah, go do your homework," Damon called out with a snarl. He set his glass down and crossed in arms in annoyance. That exchange was not as satisfying as he expected, rubbing his arms self consciously.

**BDBDBD**

_See all these illusions just take us too long, and I want you bad_

When Bonnie settled in to sleep that night in a spare room in the Boarding House – conveniently beside Stefan's where he and Elena were undoubtedly keeping an ear out for any midnight mischief – she pulled the thick comforters over her and let herself, for the first time all day, think of Damon.

She had let herself get lost in Caroline and Elena's exuberant energy that only made her feel more tired than usual. They had insisted she drink some of the vervaine-laced water they had with their take out. They had laughed with her and teased her about anything _but_ Damon – it was like he was an unspoken topic, hovering in the air but never really addressed. So unlike actual Damon who would probably implode if he wasn't getting attention, Bonnie thought as she rolled her eyes with an amused smile.

But it wasn't until Elena let it slip what Damon had wanted to tell her at dinner – that he wanted Stefan to stay away – that thoughts of Damon started to become troubling. If only she could know – was he saying that because he didn't want Stefan summoned? Was he already being summoned and influenced by her feelings that, well, that she didn't want to think about? Ok, she was jealous. Fine! That didn't mean anything. Bonnie let out a frustrated sigh, and pulled the covers over her head.

When she opened her eyes, she was standing outside the Salvatore manor mouth agape. A man bumped into her and turned to snarl and mutter a curse as she tried to regain her balance.

"What the hell?" Bonnie muttered, glancing down to see herself in a long white dress that mirrored the one she was wearing before, on the swing set. Her hair was twisted intricately on her head, pinned back with yellow flowers that cascading down her back. She glanced around and saw people moving in and out of the manor, as if hurrying to be somewhere. A man who looked a bit like Jeremy was laughing with a tall woman awkwardly as he passed. Walking towards the manor, she was a bit shocked to see Stefan, in a multi-layered grey and crème suit laughing into the air of a curly-haired Elena. Elena shot her a steady look as she passed and Bonnie made a face as she averted her eyes.

"You wanted to see what it was like," A voice said behind her simply. Bonnie turned around in the direction of the cool breath that hit her cheek to see Damon looking incredibly dapper in his 1864 outfit. She must have been gaping, because a sly smile spread across his face as he hooked his fingers behind the lapels of his black suit so she could see his crisp white shirt and blue scarf at his collar that brought out the ice in his eyes. His hair was a bit longer, and curly – he looked so, well, innocent.

"Am I dreaming?" Bonnie asked.

"Because I'm too handsome to be real?" Damon said, nodding in mock understanding.

Bonnie hit him playfully, "Wow, you're funny! I _must_ be dreaming then. The Damon I know only smirks and rolls his eyes." She stepped forward, and he followed a second behind.

"And kisses like a devil," Damon added with a wicked grin from behind her. When she turned to glance at him with a shiver, she saw him bent at the waist, his hands clasped behind his back with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Bonnie kept her voice clipped and cool, "Do you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?" Damon asked innocently, reaching up to move a stray curl off of her face and pausing to brush her cheek with the back of his palm.

"Try to make me nervous," Bonnie said, setting her eyes and refusing to blink.

"Who's trying?" Damon said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were on her lips now, and she felt his hand grip her face as if he were about to pull her forward – and she stepped aside.

"How do you do this, hmm?" Bonnie asked, forcing casualness into her voice, "Go into my dreams?"

"Your dreaming of me is all your doing," Damon grinned. "Can't blame me for my sex appeal."

"Get real," Bonnie laughed.

Damon smirked, putting his arm on Bonnie's elbow and leading her forward. They walked through the manor, and soon it became empty as they walked from room to room. "Is it how you imagined?

"It is; except, where is everyone?" Bonnie frowned, glancing around. All she heard was the swish of her skirts against each other.

"Getting ready for the Founder's Ball," Damon said, offering her a tight lipped smile.

"Ah," Bonnie said, "Are you reconstructing a memory for me?"

"Something like that," Damon said, a dark cloud coming over his face as the image of his father appeared, as if in a hurry.

"Damon," the older man said, coming up to him. He seemed surprised to see Bonnie standing next to his son, but quickly gained his composure. "Do introduce me to your lovely companion."

Bonnie smiled brightly, and was about to respond when Damon clutched her hand in his own, and said, "Miss Bennett. She is Emily's relative."

Bonnie scowled, and Mr. Salvatore cleared his throat at the impropriety of a girl like Bonnie – dressed like Bonnie – holding his son's hand in public. "Yes, well, be discrete, son."

"Always, father," Damon smiled as Bonnie dug her nails into his hand.

"Don't do anything to embarrass me tonight," his father lowered his voice to almost a growl, "I expect there will be no scandals with _any_ young ladies at the Ball tonight."

"Did you tell Stefan about that little rule?" Damon said with a tight smile.

"_Stefan_ has never done anything to shame me," he said, turning to leave with a last withering look at Bonnie.

"Not yet," Damon muttered.

"So you were a playboy back then, too!" Bonnie accused, poking Damon with a finger.

"Actually," Damon laughed, "I was pretty shy around the ladies."

"HA!" Bonnie laughed. Her eyes widened at how loud she was and she quickly clamped her hands over her lips. "_You_, shy? You _love_ attention, and you _love_ women."

Damon shrugged, "Maybe now that nothing can hurt me."

"Someone hurt you?" Bonnie teased, and immediately regretted it when she saw him clench his teeth.

"I mean, physically," Damon clarified, clearing his throat. "Oh look, your dear Stefan."

Bonnie turned to see Stefan approaching with Lady Katherine following with a poised gait, close behind.

"Isn't this a dream?" Bonnie said, clutching Damon's sleeve with the arm that wasn't trapped in his tight grip. "Can't you turn her into Elena or something?"

"Doesn't work like that," Damon said. He turned to look down at her, "Don't worry, Bonnie – you're safe."

Bonnie let out a slow breath as Stefan and Katherine approached.

"Damon," Stefan nodded in greeting to his brother.

"Stefan," Damon smiled, offering the same nod, "Lady Katherine."

"Hello, Mr. Salvatore," Katherine said with a sly smile.

"Bitch," Bonnie muttered under her breath.

"I beg your pardon?" Stefan said with a smile, "I don't think we have been introduced."

"She's—" Damon began, but Bonnie quickly cut him off by extending her hand as if expecting a kiss, "I am Lady err, Bonnie, I guess, visiting for the Ball."

Damon stifled a laugh as Stefan studied the strange lady before him who wiggled her hand expectantly until he kissed it. "Alright, keep your lips to yourself," Damon frowned, pulling Bonnie's hand away.

"Interesting," Katherine said slowly, tapping her chin with a finger, and sliding her hand into Stefan's arm. They made their way quickly after that, Katherine pausing to glance behind her shoulder flirtatiously at Damon only to find Bonnie glaring right back at her.

"You liked _her_?" Bonnie scoffed, crossing her arms, "You pined over _that?_"

"Like I said," Damon said darkly, "I wasn't the lady's man I am now."

"I don't know," Bonnie said, hurrying to keep up with Damon as he walked purposefully forward, "She seemed pretty into you to me."

"Not as much as Stefan," Damon said, remembering Bonnie's voice drifting up to him – _You make it sound like we like each other!_

They stopped at a door, and Damon glanced around carefully when Bonnie said, "Stefan's overrated." He paused to look at her from the corner of his eye, his forehead creasing in thought and suspicion. Bonnie blushed under his intense gaze, "I mean, at least back then right, what did Stefan have that you didn't have?"

Damon turned to face her and arched an eyebrow as if to say – "I'm listening."

"I mean, for Katherine, what difference did it make, really – you're both Salvatore brothers," Bonnie started gesturing wildly with her hands and had to clasp them in front of her to stop, "Even with Elena – you're both vampires, you've both killed – it's not like there's a huge difference there."

"So my appeal is that I'm just like Stefan," Damon said, spitting the words like an accusation. His eyes darkened, and Bonnie struggled for words for a second before settling on a simple, "No!"

"Then what is it?" Damon pressed, cornering her against the door. He put one hand on either side of the door, trapping her, and staring intently into her eyes as if searching for an answer that he knew wasn't going to come. He could feel the inexplicable disappointment welling up in his stomach with every second that passed with her just staring right back at him.

Bonnie reached a hand up tentatively to cradle his face. He flinched from her touch at first, but she rested her hand against his cheek insistently and began to twirl his hair around her fingers as she had that day in the car. "Damon," Bonnie began, but he interrupted her with a quieter, more desperate: "What is it?"

"It's you," Bonnie said with a simple shrug. She surprised even herself with the smile that spread across her face as she ran her fingers through his hair. "You're passionate, and really clever, and well, _mean_ – but in a kind of _sexy_ way," Bonnie lowered her voice as she felt the bubbles start to float up and flutter in her chest. His eyes were still dark, still searching – but they weren't angry, they were just – well, captivated. So mesmerized, in fact, that Bonnie's breath caught and came out in a nervous laugh as she continued just to fill the awkward silence: "You're sweet in the most unexpected ways, and you're _so_ genuine, and honest – and you don't even expect people to notice you _smelling oranges_."

Bonnie paused to appreciate the smirk that lit up his face, and she felt her heart start to pound. She clutched his hair tighter unconsciously, and felt him lean into her touch – noticed his elbows bend as he lowered his body over hers. Fluttering her lashes in nervous confusion, Bonnie started rambling, "And when you look at me, sometimes I feel like you're looking right through me. No one else looks at me like that! When you look at me like, sometimes I feel like," Bonnie's voice lowered to a whisper, and her arm fell to rest on Damon's shoulder as he nuzzled her cheek with his. She was speaking right into his ear, with his body scant inches from hers, when she said, "well, like I'm _glowing_."

Damon captured Bonnie's lips in his, absorbing his words with his tongue, taking her tangy taste and her sweet sincerity into his mouth with a tense desperation he hadn't realized he'd been keeping in check. Bonnie sighed into his mouth, and threw both arms over his neck, pulling him closer. Damon took a quick step forward and had her pressed hard between him and the door as he explored every sound he could pull from her like a strange, sensual orchestra.

Bonnie clung to Damon as if he would disappear into the dream if she let go. She wasn't entirely sure if he was really there, or if he was just a figment of her overactive imagination. She gave in to the teasing pleasure that had her heart racing and clouding up her mind – who knows if Damon could hear it too – it was so loud that she barely heard the moan Damon ripped from her throat as his lips found the edge of her ear.

"Damon," Bonnie sighed, squirming as she felt her knees go weak. Growling into her neck, Damon pushed her backwards harder against the door and they both went tumbling down as it fell open.

BANG! Bonnie hit the floor of her Boarding House room with a loud crash. She winced, rubbing the side of her head as the bedroom door was flung open and Elena ran in to see if she was alright. Bonnie forced a reassuring smile on her face as she let Elena help her back to bed, wondering idly if Damon had also ended up sprawled on the floor in a frustrated pile. But when she closed her eyes and fell back asleep, he was nowhere to be found in her dreams.

**BDBDBD**

_Baby girl you're the ish, and that makes you my equivalent_

Damon lingered in the kitchen as Bonnie and Elena ate breakfast before they headed out for school. They were chattering about some history project, and laughing about something funny that happened in school to Stefan. Damon shifted awkwardly as he watched the conversation, without having anything to add himself. He wondered if they were purposefully trying to shut him out but quickly shook that thought from his head.

When they came home from school, they brought Caroline with them. She insisted on doing Bonnie's hair with a clip they had found at her house scattered amongst the candles. Damon walked past the room six times before giving up on catching a glimpse of the brown skinned beauty – but he enjoyed the sound of her resonating laughter as he indulged in a glass of blood below.

From his position on the couch, he watched Bonnie skip down the stairs to say goodbye to Caroline before disappearing into the kitchen for a glass of water. He knew she could feel his gaze – knew she must be as aware of his presence as he was of hers – but she just skipped right back to her designated room without saying a word. Damon frowned, slamming the glass onto the table in frustration. There was something incredibly _wrong_ about Bonnie ignoring him after their, well, _nights_ together. With a clenched jaw, Damon went to bed determined not to intrude on Bonnie's dreams.

Instead, he was transported to a world he thought he had left behind years ago – a world of turmoil and war. He was uniformed again, scanning the silent midday for some sign of Union life that he would have to point a gun at. He had been young and nervous, with hands unaccustomed yet to killing; but now, he was just a vampire scanning the distance for a sign of life.

The dream was eerily silent, though. He perked his ears, waiting for the sound of the enemy. Huh, he thought, arching a brow – the dream didn't usually go like this: it usually ended in an ambush. About to turn to scan his surroundings, Damon nearly jumped out of his skin with the loud "BOO!" that came from behind him and burst into a thousand fragile giggles.

With a frown, Damon crossed his arms and turned on his heel to see a certain witch hiding her flushed face behind her hands. Bonnie stopped laughing when Damon's eyes focused on her intently, his eyebrow arching and his arms crossing before him. He studied her for a few moments without speaking, so she offered a pleased smile, "Weren't expecting me, huh!"

Damon's eyes scanned Bonnie as she put her hands on her hips defiantly. She was dressed in a Union uniform – well, what a Union uniform would look like if it involved a miniskirt and knee high black boots with stiletto heels. Her hair was twisted and tied into a tight, sleek ponytail that swayed behind her as she tilted her head to match his studious gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"You invade my dreams," Bonnie shrugged, "I invade yours. All's fair in... uh, in war."

"How are you doing this?" Damon frowned. His eyes were steady on hers, making her shift awkwardly under his intense gaze.

"Witch, remember," Bonnie said, arching her brow at him to mirror his expression.

"Stealing my tricks, huh," Damon said, letting a smirk tug at his lips.

"Yeah, you're impressed," Bonnie said, poking him in the chest.

"Vaguely," Damon said, glancing around for other soldiers – trying to remember how this memory played out over a century ago.

"Elena can't do that," Bonnie blurted out, immediately regretting it when Damon's eyes shot up to catch hers and a wicked grin spread across his face. He was way too pleased for comfort.

"Are you competing with Elena now?" Damon asked.

"No, I'm not interested in Stefan's attention," Bonnie clarified, hoping his sudden interest was due to his strange jealousy of his brother. She started walking forward through the brush, ducking the random tree branch. But Damon kept up with her, not taking his eyes off of her nervous face as he walked backwards.

"Who's talking about Stefan?" Damon pressed, his eyes lighting up with mischievous innocence. Bonnie bit her lips to keep from smiling as her stomach was overcome with butterflies. She felt her cheeks flush, and suddenly, she remembered why she came here.

"Why were you stalking me today?" Bonnie asked, stopping in her tracks and crossing her arms in front of her.

Damon stopped walking, and the smile fell from his face. "I wasn't."

"You were," Bonnie said, tilting her head as she studied him. He walked away from her, waving her off with his hand as if he was swatting a fly. "And now you don't want to see me. Are you mad at me or something?"

"Can't a guy have some time to himself?" Damon barked.

"Funny, that's what I was wondering," Bonnie said with mock sincerity, "When this old vampire was following me around."

"If you wanted to be alone, what are you doing here?" Damon pointed out.

"If you wanted to be alone, what were you doing staring at me all day?" Bonnie said, sticking her tongue out. Neither wanted to be the first to admit that they missed the other – that their hovering friends were interrupting the comforting presence of the other they'd gotten used to. So instead, they just stared at each other until Damon's face broke into a smirk.

"At least you dressed up for me," Damon grinned, nodding his approval at her exposed legs.

"Yeah, I didn't know what their uniforms looked like," Bonnie shrugged.

"No wonder that extra credit in history lie was so believable," Damon teased.

"Yeah, you think it's hot," Bonnie teased right back, looking away when she saw his eyes darken and glint with amusement. Clearing her throat, she mumbled something about spells, and dreams and historical inaccuracies and maybe trying out a civil rights march next time – had he ever been to one of those even? "This is way more fun than the Boarding House," She concluded, gesturing to their surroundings, "As long as we don't like, see someone die."

"I wasn't following you," Damon began cautiously, "I wanted to talk."

"About what," Bonnie asked, "We can talk with Elena and Caroline around – they know about the spell now."

"When you summoned me, you were mad at me," Damon continued, forcing Bonnie to meet his curious gaze. "Why?"

"Why?" Bonnie scoffed, "Because I was looking for your dumb ass all day and you were nowhere to be find." _Not that that stopped Elena from finding you!_

"Why were you looking for me?" Damon pressed.

"Why did you want me to summon you when you were with Elena?" Bonnie said, her voice eerily quiet for the amount of anger evident in it. "Did you think she would see human Damon and fall head over heels?"

Damon clenched his teeth at Bonnie's rolling eyes, "No. Maybe at first, but—"

"What is your problem?" Bonnie interrupted, staring him dead in the eye with that scary witch glare, "First, you want to ditch me for Elena; and then you tell her to keep Stefan away from me? So I am just here for your amusement, huh? I can't have friends or a life of my own."

"Not if it includes _Stefan_," Damon snarled.

"You're such a confused child," Bonnie fumed, "Stefan's not the spoiled one – _you are._ You don't just want your own toys – you want Stefan's toys too! Not that Elena and I are toys but you know what I mean!"

"Shhhh," Damon said, grabbing Bonnie and pulling her up against his chest. He clenched her mouth shut with his hand and smirked as her eyes shot open in fear. She scanned their surroundings for soldiers, but there was nothing – it was silent – until Damon spoke, "I'm sorry you couldn't reach me. I was doing some research."

Bonnie mumbled against his hand, but he just held her mouth more tightly shut. "There's something strange about this spell. It doesn't work on your grandmother – just me. But you don't have _any_ tokens of mine – doesn't that strike you as odd?" Damon nodded Bonnie's head for her and thought he heard her stifled laughter, "Right, I thought so too. Then I realized – you're my token."

Bonnie bit down on Damon's hand – hard. He yelled a curse and shoved her away from him, and there it was – that witchy glare, "I am _not_ your property."

"Emily gave you to me," Damon said, dismissing her.

"That would mean that every time I summon someone," Bonnie said angrily, "You'll show up."

"Isn't that what's been happening?" Damon smirked as Bonnie almost growled in frustration.

"I do not belong to you," Bonnie insisted, crossing her arms as she digested the information.

"We'll see about that," Damon replied simply.

"So why do you want Stefan to stay away from me?" Bonnie pressed, "If I summoned him, I'd summon you too anyway!"

"Because I want you," Damon said, narrowing his eyes at her. Bonnie's eyes widened, and she shook her head and bit her lip to keep the smile from creeping up across her face.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Why was I stalking you today? Because I _want_ you," Damon said again, towering over her like a threat. He spat the word "want" like it was something that should terrify her – like he was protecting her.

"You do?"

"You wound me, Bennett," Damon said, his voice still menacing as he came closer to tap her cheek. He paused to run his thumb across her lips. Bonnie let her eyes fall to his mouth, and when she glanced back up his blue eyes were dark and intently focused as he spoke: "Can't you read my lips?"

"So have me," Bonnie said, her forehead scrunched in confusion at his inability to grasp such a simple concept. She felt her heart pounding in her chest – scaring herself at such a statement, the first time she had made it without being bound by the summoning spell. Although maybe, her pride grasped for a reason, maybe the dream spell had its own kind of pull entirely.

"I will." Damon said smugly, letting his hand fall from her face. He let his eyes explore her greedily before promising, "Just wait until I get you alone."

"Oh, I get it," Bonnie said, breaking the seductive trance with a disapproving tsk, "You don't want me in _real _life - you don't want Elena to know how much you want me."

"No," Damon said, shaking his head in amusement at her theory.

"Yes," Bonnie insisted as she stepped forward, "You don't want anyone to know how desperate you are to climb into my bed."

"Ha," Damon scoffed, stepping backwards as Bonnie approached with possessive eyes that sent a thrill up his spine. She was looking at him as he had once looked at Katherine – like he belonged to her – and he was ashamed to admit to the sick pleasure he got out of being claimed by a powerful woman.

"And undress me," Bonnie continued teasingly, smiling slowly as Damon backed up into a tree, "And make love to me."

"I don't make _love_," Damon said, making a disgusted face – but Bonnie just shook her head and didn't break her concentrated gaze: "I think you do. I think you make hot, passionate, slow, sweaty love."

"You must have me confused with some other Salvatore," Damon said, as his eyes fell to gaze at her sweet lips as she spoke. He reached out a hand to pull her hair free. She let her rifle fall to the ground unceremoniously without breaking eye contact, and he hurried to do the same.

"Nope," Bonnie said, coming up to him and dipping her fingers into the waistband of his pants. She slid her fingers around as she spoke, tickling his hip bones. "It's you."

"Prove it." Damon, his eyes narrowing to study her movements. Was this really Bonnie – or was he dreaming her all by himself? She didn't seem to be conflicted with like doubt as she slowly unbuttoned his uniform, keeping her eyes attached to his face.

Bonnie got a strange thrill from watching Damon study her. There was something strangely safe about teasing him in his dreams. She hadn't meant for things to get this far, she thought as he shrugged his jacket off to hit the ground, and pulled her forward. Scooping her up, he slid her body down the length of his, and held it in place – her legs dangling just above the ground before coming up to hook around his back. In a quick move, Damon spun them around so her back was to the tree.

Damon started at her throat – raining deep, long kisses on her skin until her breathing was heavy and her head had fallen to one side to give him easier access. He raked his hands up her side, keeping her pinned to the tree with the rest of his body. Next was her jaw line – he traced a slow path across her face to her ears that he tugged on with his lips and tongue.

Bonnie stifled a sigh for as long as she could before desire fogged her mind. She clung to Damon's soldier body, trying to pull him closer to her – as if she could feel him, _really_ feel him, beyond the confines of her dream – through the walls of the Boarding House that separated them.

Squirming in his arms, Bonnie shoved Damon off of her. She took advantage of his surprised stumbling backwards to pull him to the ground. Straddling him, Bonnie's skirt slid up around her hips and he smiled appreciatively as he clung to her hips. Leaning forward, Bonnie started to suck on his neck – kiss where his pulse should be, and sample every space between there and his gorgeous lips – pausing just above his mouth as he ground her body into his to whisper, "My turn."

Damon's eyes fell closed at the strange sensation of Bonnie's lips pulling at his throat, and fluttering lightly across his face before finding his mouth. He clung to her – pulled her harder on top of him, held her face in place when she found a spot her _really_ liked. It was strange, being kissed by a girl who knew what he was – they were just as they were in real life: on different sides of a strange war, where he had cost her so much more than she had cost him. But her hands in his hair, her weight balanced carefully on all the right places, and her breathy sighs as he found her bare skin with his hands – were overwhelming.

Bonnie didn't know how long they had remained like that – kissing and touching each other – but she could feel the strange sting of daylight from the other side of her lids. Damon was clutching her to him as she ground her body against his – she was trembling from his purposeful touch, enjoying the powerful sensation of having Damon completely at her mercy. With a final, hard kiss to his lips, Bonnie heard Damon groan into her hair and knew that their sudden encounter was over.

The dream faded with his release, but still he reached out to cling to her – to feel her beside him, knowing that when he awoke he would be alone in a big, empty bed.

"And _that_, soldier," Bonnie's teasing voice came as he drifted to waking, "is how you win the war."

**BDBDBD**

_So I pray to something she ain't bluffin' rubbin' up on me. Well does she want me to make a vow? Does she want me to make it now?_

Bonnie took her time getting dressed in the morning. It was a beautiful Saturday, and she refused to do anything stressful or school or spell related. She was still feeling a little upset to her stomach – a little exhausted, and strained as if the spell was still on although much weaker. She felt an annoying tug at her thoughts, as if she should be remembering something important, when Damon burst into her room, grabbed her, and flung her playfully onto the bed.

"Good morning to you too," Bonnie laughed out as she bounced on the oversized, soft bed. She was naked but for the robe her friends had retrieved from her house. She had just finished twisting her hair into the fancy updo Caroline had showed her – pinning it in place with the pin she'd found in the Salvatore library – when she found herself buried under Damon's body.

"Are you hiding from me?" Damon growled into her neck. Bonnie opened her mouth to respond, but her answer was lost in a breathy moan as Damon's mouth found her throat, sending sensations spiralling through her that were so much more overwhelming in real life.

"Waiting for you?" Bonnie tried right before his lips found hers. He kissed her slowly and hungrily, as if he had been thinking about it all night – as if he had figured out exactly which spots he would tease and taste when he got her alone. She threaded her fingers through his hair. "Maybe we shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" Damon's voice whispered over her skin. He detached himself from her to pull his shirt over his head before pulling her up against him again.

"Because," Bonnie began, blinking rapidly as he settled himself between her legs, "Stefan and Elena are here."

"Gone for the weekend," Damon smiled against her skin. He rested his face against her throat, enjoying the exciting sound of her pulse against her skin. _One day_, he promised himself as he content himself with a kisses to her jaw.

"We can't just," Bonnie searched for words to explain her confusion, "Fall into bed with each other because we feel like it."

"Why not?" Damon repeated, a smirk haunting his lips as he forced a serious, interested expression. He clutched her hand as she struggled with words, raising it to his face to kiss her fingers.

Bonnie stuttered, trying to find words to express confused feelings she hadn't had a chance to analyze. Damon kissing her fingers didn't seem to help, so she snatched her hand away. "I don't know."

"What do you want, Bonnie?" Damon sighed, collapsing into the bed like he was being punished.

"I don't know," Bonnie frowned.

"Me?" Damon offered, turning his head to her with a smirk.

"Yes," Bonnie admitted, forcing down the creeping blush. Damon tugged nonchalantly on the tie keeping her robe closed, but she clutched it closed herself, "But that's not enough."

Damon frowned, "What else is there?"

"Try who," Bonnie frowned right back at him: "Elena."

"You want Elena too?" Damon teased.

"Not funny."

"I don't want Elena," Damon said with sudden sincerity as his eyes met hers.

She studied his eyes for some sign of the truth, but there was no certainty to be found. "If it's me," Bonnie said, her voice barely above a whisper. She cast her eyes from him to shield herself from the embarrassment of rejection, "Then there can't be anyone else."

"I feel like I've heard this threat before," Damon paused, feigning thoughtfulness.

"It's not a threat," Bonnie said, raising an eyebrow at him, and setting her lips into an unforgiving line. "It's a deal."

"I don't want anyone else anyway," Damon said as he raised himself up to tower over her. He pressed his body against hers, keeping their gaze connected as he tugged her robe open again. This time, she didn't stop him. "Do you?"

"I don't," Bonnie said softly, trembling at the feel of his naked chest against hers, "Just you."

"Deal," Damon said, lowering his face to capture her lips in his. "Just you."

Bonnie smiled into Damon's kiss – it was softer this time, and she felt that strange fluttering butterfly feeling bubbling up inside of her, and pouring from her lungs into their kiss – into Damon as he pressed more insistently against her. His hands found her hair, and his lips trailed to caress her neck again as he pulled her elegant updo to pieces.

"What's this?" Damon said lowly into her neck, turning the clip in her hands. Then he shoved himself off of her – staring at it in disbelief, he yelled, "Where the hell did you get this?"

Bonnie stuttered, startled by Damon's sudden change in mood as he threw it across the room before turning to her with a snarl. "In your library," Bonnie said, raising herself onto her elbows, "I'm sorry, is it important?"

"Is that the clip they found in your house?" Damon asked, turning away from her.

"Yes," Bonnie said, "You don't remember seeing it? I was wearing it when I summoned you."

"Ha!" Damon let out a dry laugh, shaking his head at the ridiculous situation he had found himself in. "Of course."

"_What?"_ Bonnie almost yelled.

Damon turned to face her with a look torn between anger and defeat on his face. He let out a frustrated sigh, "It was Katherine's."

"What?" Bonnie repeated, her face falling.

"It was Katherine's." Damon said. "Congratulations, Bennett. You just summoned your second vampire."


	13. theres a fire starting in my heart

**AN: First of all, I am SO SORRY for the delay! I have been incredibly busy and haven't had much time to myself. I hope you can forgive me, and that this chapter makes up for it. I've got another three awful weeks to go before I am free, so I can't promise another long update but the story only has a few more chapters to go **** So please stick around, because I will finish! Second, THANK YOU for all of the reviews – they have kept me going, and will encourage me to write more. Enjoyyy!**

**BDBDBDBD**

_There's a fire starting in my heart_

"These are the rules," Damon said, comfortably sprawled across the couch with a glass of blood in one hand that he traced in lazy circles in front of him before taking casual sips, "Token plus emotion plus witchy juju equals summoned vampire."

"Except I don't need a token for you," Bonnie pointed out. She was pacing up and down the Salvatore living room, alternatively wringing her hands and rubbing her sweaty palms against her grey jeans. After his revelation in the bedroom, she had felt a cold chill crawl up her spine and was in no mood for Damon antics. All she could think was _Katherine_. She'd be shocked if he wasn't also thinking _Katherine_; and how could she let him touch her knowing he was thinking that? Besides, evil ex girlfriends do kind of kill the mood.

"Except you _are_ my token." Damon corrected, pointing his finger at her as she arched her brow. "I told you this."

"And I told you," Bonnie crossed her arms in front of herself, "I don't belong to anyone."

"Emily," Damon spoke slowly, "Gave. You. To. Me."

"Stop saying that!" Bonnie snapped, "This isn't 1865, you can't _own _me."

"You're mine, Bennett," Damon said, a smirk pulling at his lips that he tried to control. Her eyes lit up with a delicious spark when she glared at him. "Why fight it? You know you want it."

"Maybe it's the other way around." Bonnie declared, setting her hands firmly on her hips. "Maybe you belong to me, and I don't need a token because _you_ are part of _me_."

"Maybe," Damon said, his eyes narrowing with a sexy spark as he studied her pursed lip. A thrill of electricity shot up his spine. "I don't think I'd mind being kept by you."

"Like a pet." Bonnie said.

"That you have sex with."

"That's disgusting."

"Fuck me or feed me," Damon shrugged. "If you want me, you have to at least fulfil some of the basic needs. I guess you could _walk_ me-"

"Second rule," Bonnie cleared her throat, "The longer we don't touch, the easier it is for you to go through vervaine, right?"

"Right." Damon nodded, taking a sip of his blood. "Are you _sure_ you don't want some?"

Bonnie frowned, unimpressed. "Can you focus for one second here?"

"Vampiric qualities dim the longer we are apart," Damon muttered rolling his eyes. He gave her the face of a bored school boy she'd just chided.

"And when we do touch?" Bonnie whispered, digging her nails into her jeans nervously.

"Everything comes back full force," Damon said, enjoying a delicious thrill as he remembered the scent of her blood and the hum of her heart hit him like a refreshing realization – like a song he just couldn't remember until he heard its familiar melody.

"So the longer she doesn't touch me," Bonnie said, "the easier it will be for her to cross vampire barriers, such as the tomb. And when she _does _touch me," Bonnie's hesitation would have been imperceptible to anyone else, "Her strength, her hunger for blood – all of that will be back."

"Sounds about right," Damon said, bored.

"This can only end one way." Bonnie concluded, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Stupid ancient spells! "Either I sit here and wait, or I go to the tomb and let her touch me."

"If she's still there," Damon pointed out. He thought it was cute how Bonnie started pacing again, how she thought she actually had _options_. He scoffed at the idea of little Miss Bennett walking past a barrier he couldn't – wouldn't – broach. Any option that left her at a hungry, raging, orange-obsessed Katherine's mercy, was not an option. But it was cute that Bonnie thought it was.

"If she's still there," Bonnie repeated as if in thought. She stopped mid-step, and turned to face him, her face falling. "It's hopeless!"

He patted the seat next to him. "Shall I comfort you?"

"That means she can get into my house!" Bonnie exclaimed."Nowhere is safe!"

"It's safe here," Damon muttered, his hand still on the seat next to him. He eyed it absently for a moment before withdrawing his hand to his lap.

Bonnie stopped pacing and sighed, "Why aren't you more concerned?"

"Should I be?" Damon shrugged. "She was bound to get out sooner or later. This way, at least we know where she's headed."

"Yeah, right towards me!" Bonnie exclaimed.

"Tsk, tsk, Bonnie," Damon said, sliding himself into a sitting position. "You really think I'd let anything happen to you?"

"Yes." Bonnie said, without hesitation. She arched a brow and frowned at the Salvatore. Sure, maybe he cared a little more about her now than he did a month ago – but he also staked Lexi and broke Jeremy's neck.

"I take care of what's mine." Damon said, offering her another charming smile. She shifted her weight under his gaze, trying to quash the tingles that had started to creep up her legs and weaken her knees as he kept their gazes entwined.

"I told you, Damon," Bonnie said, forcing herself to take a step backwards as he stood slowly, "I'm not yours."

Damon's eyes never left hers as he stood. As he unfurled to full height, her head titled upwards as if she wanted to follow him with her body and not just her eyes. "Maybe you're right."

"W-what?" Bonnie stuttered, taking another step back as Damon took two quick steps forward.

"Maybe you're not mine," Damon said as she backed into a bookshelf. He reached up to run his hand against her cheek, and Bonnie silently cursed herself as she felt herself lean into his cool touch. "But you will be."

"What?" Bonnie said, her sight beginning to haze as his other hand traced the angles of her collar bone. His voice skimmed over her skin as he continued speaking, but she barely heard him – just saw his lips moving, and wanted to move hers too against them.

"You're not listening," Damon scolded playfully as she shook her head as if to scatter the foggy pleasure from her head. He traced the curve of her ear and bent his face to nip at where his fingers touched.

"You're distracting me." Bonnie frowned, stiffening her body at the contact of his lips. She clenched her teeth against a shudder as he opened his mouth behind her ear to caress her skin. His hands hovered above her body – never making contact, but making her skin heat up in anticipation.

"From what?" Damon challenged in a bemused whisper before tracing her neck with his nose. Bonnie's hands shot up to grasp his arms, as if she needed him to keep her stead. He took a step forward, trapping her against the bookshelf with his body. Her fingers curled around his arms, and he felt tingles from the tight, sudden contact.

"Katherine," Bonnie said, not intending it to come out as a moan that had Damon grinning against her nape.

"Not usually the name I like to hear you moan," Damon teased, sucking on her ear lobes, "But I can work with it."

"No," Bonnie frowned, letting go of his arms to shove him lightly back. "What are we going to do about her? Stefan's gone."

"Stefan?" Damon growled incredulously. "What is it with women and _Stefan_?"

"I just mean—" Bonnie tried to explain, but Damon interrupted her: "You think Stefan would protect _you_? You're nothing to him but Elena's friend!"

"Ouch," Bonnie said, although she knew he was right. Damon turned away from her angrily as she spoke hurriedly, "I only meant we could use the help."

"I meant what I said, Bonnie." Damon whipped around to face her. His eyes were dark, and his face set in an uncompromising expression. He stalked towards her and, for some reason, she stood her ground. She didn't flinch or retreat when he towered down over her. _Do you think I'd let anything happen to you?_ He reached out to trace her chin with his hand: "I don't want you summoning anyone else. I will kill any vampire you call. So don't even _think_ about summoning him."

"You'd kill Katherine?" Bonnie challenged, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"The minute you called her," Damon said without missing a beat, his eyes searching hers for a sign of belief, "she was dead."

Bonnie inhaled sharply, surprised at the sincerity in his voice. She reached out to clutch the collar of his shirt and absently pulled him toward her. "Why?"

"Because I want you," Damon said, his eyes narrowing and his jaw twitching as he clenched it, "And no one else is allowed to."

"Katherine won't _want_ me," Bonnie offered a smile, ignoring the thought that he was probably referring to her blood.

"I can't take that risk," Damon said as her hands fell from his collar to sprawl against the angles of his chest. He almost closed his eyes in the simple pleasure of her touch, but didn't want to break the heady eye contact. She twisted her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him flush against her.

"Damon," Bonnie said, her voice barely above a whisper. His body was solid and sturdy against hers. She was humming with so much heat that the lights were flickering high and low like there was a voltage problem.

"Trust me," Damon said, that slow, sexy smirk turning his face from charming to captivating. He inhaled the scent of oranges, revelled in the feeling of her fingers tightening against his belt loops as if she couldn't pull him close enough. In the back of his mind, he knew this was strange. In the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't _want_ her this much without a spell cast – with better things to do, vamps to kill. This wasn't a bored outing or a mystical summoning: this should feel strange, but it didn't.

"Choose me," Damon said. Bonnie shook her head, reaching for his hand and rubbing it against her face, down her neck, and along the crevice of her breasts. "I do."

She inhaled sharply as he flexed his fingers and closed them around her breast. "So you admit you're mine?" Damon said, that familiar smirk lighting up his face as her eyelashes fluttered in pleasure.

There was something so relaxing and soothing about his seduction. It wasn't always the intense, throw-me-on-the-bed-and-rip-off-my-clothes sex she had imagined she'd have with him (ok, so she thought about it!). It was so much sexier than that – she was surprised her clothes didn't simply steam off in his presence.

"You're mine," Bonnie managed to correct as he ran his hands to the small of her back and puller her body sharply against his. She pulled at his shirt, "Emily gave you to me."

"I'm not Emily's to give," Damon said lightly.

"You're my guardian," Bonnie smiled up at him, and Damon felt a surge of pride when she continued: "You'll protect me."

"Except you rarely need protecting," Damon pointed out, lowering his mouth until it was scant inches from her own.

Bonnie rose up on her tiptoes and rubbed her nose teasingly against his, "Good point. Maybe I'll protect you."

Damon barely got out his last word before he crushed her lips to his: "Deal."

The lights in the room burst into light until bulbs broke, shimmering sparks around them before blanketing them in darkness.

Bonnie staggered backwards, running into a wall with her mouth still connected to Damon's. His hands slid up her body, moulding over her curves, twisting in fabric, and finally settling gently on her collar bones. His touch was more tender than she expected – it soothed her, too. Bonnie's hands slipped up under Damon's shirt. She smiled against his lips wickedly as she skimmed the edge of his waistband, one finger dipping beneath. His muscles twitched as she ran her nails against his abdomen; her fingers flexed into the flesh at his hipbones.

Damon leaned down to grab her ass and pull her flush against his body. Bonnie blushed in the darkness, and he could almost see the gentle pink glow lighting up his face. He held her above the ground and deepened their kiss, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him.

Butterflies were rioting inside of her stomach –they were zapped to life, making her feel fluttery and powerful all at once. Damon was holding her up with one arm, keeping her pressed tightly against his hard body. She raised her hands to rest on his shoulders. Bonnie pressed on his shoulders gently to gain enough leverage to lift her legs up and wrap against his body.

Heat. Sudden and sharp flashed through him. He took a step forward, pressing her against the wall, grinding his body into hers as his hands explored the soft flesh of her legs under her jeans. Bonnie moaned sweetly into his mouth every time he shifted to adjust her weight and ended up rubbing against her – so he did it again. Pulling away with a wicked grin on his face, Damon rested his head against hers to catch her eye. Her eyelids were drooping with overwhelming desire, her breath was coming in short, lovely huffs that made her chest rise and fall delicately against his. When she met his eyes, every candle in the room blazed high with flames.

_Reaching a fever pitch, and it's bringing me out the dark_

"Parlor tricks," Damon said, rolling his eyes – but he kept his face pressed to hers. She rubbed her nose against his, slid her cheek against his – skin on skin caress, her lips found the edge of his ear to nibble on. She sucked on his skin, pausing only to say, "Abra Kadabra, vamp."

He closed his eyes, enjoying the incredible feeling of such a sexy, powerful woman laying kisses on his skin like he was something precious – like he was something wanted. His smile only fell momentarily when he realized, she was kissing him like someone she wouldn't forget in the morning – and he didn't want to her. But her nipping lips against his jaw line brought him back.

The books in the room flipped open, the pages flipping quickly in the sudden gust of wind. The sound startled Bonnie so she opened one eye – and gasped at what she saw.

"D-Damon," Bonnie said, startled. She flexed her legs, tightening their grip on Damon. He grunted, pleased in response, burying his face in her nape to inhale the scent of her pulse. She hit him playfully before gripping his belt loops again as if to keep him more securely pressed against her.

"What?" Damon snapped, eyes darting to her sultry pulse.

"We're floating." They were levitating in the air, near the top of the ceiling. "Did I do that?"

"Right," Damon said, looking around unimpressed. "Just don't drop us, and we're good." He resumed his light kisses up her neck. Goosebumps rose on her skin and he smiled to himself: her reactions to him were so subtle, but sincere.

"We're going to fall," Bonnie frowned, as the lifted higher until her head was scant inches from the roof.

"That won't kill me," Damon shrugged.

"Be serious," Bonnie said, resisting the urge to shove him.

"It's fine," Damon sighed, pausing in his kisses to look around. A sly smirk hit his face, and Bonnie frowned before the words were even out of his mouth: "If you float us a little higher, we can do it against the ceiling."

"Classy," Bonnie said, but he could tell by the glint in her eye that she was amused.

"It's just nervous energy," Damon explained, brushing a lock of hair from her face as he studied her eyes. His brow creased: "Do I make you nervous?"

"No," Bonnie said, with exaggerated disdain, "Psshh, you? Me, nervous?"

"We're floating higher," Damon teased, tapping the underside of her chin. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his neck. He fought the urge to wrap his arms around her and do exactly what he had suggested – take her against the roof.

"Okay, you make me nervous," Bonnie muttered. "Tell me how to get down."

"I don't do freebies," Damon said, already tracing the inside of her waistband with a finger as she pressed against him. As he traced her spine, he felt her tense against him: delicious.

"What do you want?" Her voice was a practiced sort of calm.

"You know what I want," Damon said, letting his hand dip to run over the curves of her ass, sliding over her inner thighs as if in a trance. He felt his face start to shift and he bit it back. "You've kept me waiting long enough."

"You want me to sleep with you?" Bonnie deadpanned. "Original."

"So you've gotten an offer like this before?" Damon said, indifference heavy in his voice.

"No, but I'm sure you've made them," Bonnie said. She could feel her anger spike as they slowly began to descend.

"I don't usually have to talk girls into sleeping with me," Damon pointed out, still sweeping her legs with his strong hands. She shivered in his touch, but didn't pull away.

"No, you just compel them," Bonnie said.

"But not you," Damon said, as their feet hit the ground again. She let go of her clutch on him, but he wouldn't set her down. The feeling of her here – right here, locked in his arms, wrapped around his body – was too extraordinary to let go. She was hot with power, warm with desire – her whole body was humming for him. He responded to her curious gaze with a tightening in his chest.

"Not me," Bonnie agreed. His chest tightened again. He wondered if she could feel it, this clenching that made him yearn for her.

"I don't want to forget," she said, tracing his face with both of her hands. He closed his eyes at her gentle touch, at the feeling of her fingers playing in his hair.

She kissed him.

Damon's lips were firm but gentle as they took their time to learn her taste. He hadn't kissed her like this before: not this slowly, not this lazily – like the whole world could wait until he was ready to share her with them. His hand clutched the small of her back, tracing lazy circles against her skin under her shirt – sharp, hot chills spiked through her body with each hesitant brush.

Bonnie felt her heart pounding against her chest – she could hear it flooding her thoughts. Her mouth was soft, but not yielding – she gave as good as she got, meeting Damon's slow, heady pace with her own sweet, insistent rhythm.

Bonnie's heart was pounding against his chest. Damon could smell it over everything: over the scent of her hair, over the taste of her sweet lips – oranges. His face twisted in a snarl as his fingers twined around her hair, but he forced himself to slow. He struggled to keep his face from shifting – he didn't want to scare her, didn't want to ruin the moment, didn't want _that_ side of him to take over. She stroked his face slowly and it seemed to calm him. His kisses became more languid – he was sampling every angle of her mouth.

Bonnie shivered against him, wanting to pull him closer – wanting to feel his body pressed against her: skin to skin. As if he read her mind, Damon zoomed them up to his room and tossed her on his bed in record time. She laughed as he kicked off his shoes and, climbing onto the bed beside her, struggled to pull his shirt off.

She stared at him – every line of his sculpted chest – with fascination. He hovered over her, closing his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her, when she pushed him away. She pushed him onto his back and straddled him. "Stay," she said, and pinned him with her eyes.

Bonnie started at his ear, and kissed her way across his jaw line. He shivered under the touch of her lips, and the feel of her breath as she made sounds of approval. She paid attention to his neck, and his nape – taking care to kiss spots that she knew instinctively required extra attention. She traced his collar bone with her lips and, as she made her way down, he flinched and started to swear his approval.

"Fuck, Bonnie," Damon growled, his face shifting. He could hear her pulse racing as she kissed him and traced his body with her fingers – he was as turned on by her arousal as he was by her self. "Let me go."

"Not yet," Bonnie teased, kissing the flesh of his chest. She tugged his jeans down to expose his hips, pretending to ignore the most obvious sign of his desire. He muttered another curse, and then sucked in a tortured breath as she scraped her teeth against his hip bone. She closed her eyes, breaking her sight of his body for just a minute – but enough to break her hold over him. He lunged at her.

Damon covered her in kisses. His face was shifting to vamp mode, but he didn't care. He sucked on her skin, not pausing to see where his lips landed, just desperate to taste every part of her. He tugged at her jeans with one hand, and pulled at her shirt with the other. He growled when he couldn't find success, and growled again when she moaned and arced her back against his touch. There were oranges everywhere: oranges, and this delicious caramel glow he was sure he was imagining. Light was steaming off of her, and flooding his taste buds with Bonnie.

He ripped her shirt off, not bothering to undo the buttons with any more care than he had had with his own. She pulled it down her arms and tossed it to the side of the bed as he distracted himself with her breasts. Bonnie was on the edge of the bed now, her body hanging slightly off as he sucked the flesh of her breasts with abandon. He pulled her up against him and she could feel him pressing against her thigh. She was overwhelmed: she was happy, exhilarated, anxious and dizzy – she didn't think she ever wanted this to end.

"Bonnie," Damon whispered, dragging his face up from its place on her stomach and waiting until she looked down. With the conviction of a condemned man, he said: "I want you."

Bonnie broke. Any idea she had of waiting or resisting gave way with the beautiful, broken sound of Damon's voice professing his desire: honest and heartbreaking. His face was completely vamped out: black lines ran from his eyes, and his fangs were exposed as he waited for her response. Bonnie slid down the bed underneath him until her face was facing his.

"No biting," she whispered, laying a tender kiss on his face. She ran her hands along the black veins on his temple with a smile as she bit her lip.

"Say you want me," Damon said, and Bonnie felt her heart swell and leap, but she said again, "No biting, Damon."

"Fine!" he conceded, angry and about to pull away from her when she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His chest flattened against her bra, and she sighed happily at the contact.

"Damon," Bonnie said, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "You want me."

A smirk lit up Damon's face and he let out a sexy laugh before he descended to brush her lips with his.

But he didn't capture them before she said: "I want you, too."

**BDBDBDBD**

_The scars of your love leave me breathless_

Katherine clenched and unclenched her fists as she made her way to Damon's room. She could _smell_ Bonnie everywhere – and not her blood. There was a riotous hunger building in her to consume the little witch – to get her, touch her, and then drain her dry. If she were feeling generous, maybe she would just snap her neck or leave her on the brink of life – you know, in thanks for freeing her – but making her chase her to the Salvatore home? Climbing all over Damon, and making this so unnecessarily complicated? No, she couldn't risk being summoned again. This had to end. Now.

Katherine swung the door open.

"You have the _worst_ timing," Damon muttered against Bonnie's neck. He felt her body stiffen underneath him before he rolled off of her. She scrambled to pull her shirt together to find that Damon had pulled the buttons off.

"Don't stop on my account." Katherine said, with a bored look on her face. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Damon lay on his back, folding his arms behind his head to regard her, his arousal apparent at the front of his jeans. Bonnie blushed.

Katherine's eyes show to Bonnie, "Bennett."

"Katherine," Bonnie said, setting her face with a resolute, determined frown. But her breath was still struggling to calm down. Damon could hear her heart pound, and was glad when, looking at Katherine's impassive face, he knew she couldn't hear – or smell – Bonnie's restless blood.

Katherine arched an eyebrow, hand on hip, and said with exaggerated annoyance: "You called?"

"You're welcome," Bonnie said, "You're out of the tomb now."

Bonnie leaned against the head board, crossing her legs at the ankle. If it weren't for her humming pulse, Damon would think she wasn't afraid.

"Well, thanks for that," Katherine said insincerely. She had an exaggerated way of speaking. Kind of like Damon. "But this spell isn't over yet."

Katherine took a step closer, and Damon zipped in between them. He sat on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed.

"Are you saying you want to join us?" Damon said, his whole body tense.

"In your dreams!" Bonnie couldn't help but scoff behind his back.

"No," Katherine corrected, bringing up a hand to draw a finger down Damon's jaw. She met his eyes, "In his dreams, you wouldn't be there. Right, Damon?"

"Right," Damon meant it sarcastically, but it came out sounding sincere.

"Right," Katherine nodded, a smile playing at her lips, "So let's just end this spell, and get the little witch out of here. You did well, having her summon me."

Damon gaped, about to reply with a scathing denial, but Bonnie acted before he could respond. She waved her hand dismissively and sent Katherine crashing against the wall. Her body slumped down, and she struggled to stand again. She was weak.

"You haven't fed," Damon said, surprised. Then he turned to Bonnie, "Good aim."

"Not really," Bonnie sneered, "I was aiming for you." With a concentrated glare, she pushed Katherine against the wall and held her there.

Damon got up from the bed smoothly, walking to the desk and chair in the corner of his room.

"Damon," Katherine warned, "Don't do this."

Damon glanced at Bonnie, but her expression was unchanged. He slammed the chair against the ground, and it splintered between them. He held up a sharp leg with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Not yet." Bonnie said. Her hair waved lightly around her, as if in a breeze. She seemed to be anchoring herself to the bed. Katherine gaped at her – entranced.

Damon's knuckles whitened as he gripped the stake, watching Katherine watch Bonnie. Doubtless, she was seeing those delicious wisps of light. When Katherine licked her lips, Damon knew exactly what she was thinking. There was something so appealing – so sexy, so sensual – about this witch when she was in the throes of her powers. Bonnie's eyes were trained on Katherine, keeping her pinned against the wall, and Katherine's eyes were devouring Bonnie. Damon tried to listen for Bonnie's heartbeat, but it had dulled with the onset of her powers: it was calm, and steady.

Katherine didn't notice as Damon approached her menacingly. Without shifting her gaze, Bonnie flicked her fingers, sending Damon stumbling backwards. "We're on the same side here, witch."

"I don't side with vampires," Bonnie said, arcing a brow, "Unless absolutely necessary."

"Ha," Katherine said, tiredly. Bonnie almost pitied her. If Damon had been overcome with grief and guilt, Bonnie could only imagine how Katherine must be feeling. She hadn't meant to call her.

"This is necessary," Damon growled, getting up to approach Katherine with vampire speed – but Bonnie flicked her wrist and sent him flying against the other wall. "Listen, witch!"

"This is between us," Bonnie said. Damon felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. The cracks in his body from the impact felt like they were creeping up his body like broken glass, until they hit his heart and, for the first time in centuries, he felt dead.

"What?"

"I said, leave, Salvatore." Bonnie said.

"I'm not leaving you, Bonnie," Damon said, sincerely. His brows were knotted in confusion. Why wouldn't she let him stake her?

"We're not killing her," Bonnie said. That's what you think, Damon wanted to reply, but he bit his lip since she had said _We_.

"What are we doing with her then?" Damon challenged, rushing to Bonnie's side. He glared at her, "You want her to _touch_ you?"

"Yes," Bonnie said, on a shakey exhale. A grin lit up Katherine's face. She had long stopped struggling against Bonnie's bonds.

"No!" Damon raised his voice, dismissing her with the wave of his hand. "Think of something else."

Bonnie tilted her head, as if she hadn't heard Damon, "You want to touch me, don't you, Katherine?"

"Yes," Katherine said simply. She licked her lips again.

"Then you'll do what I say." Bonnie said, relaxing the bonds that kept the vampire to the wall.

"What are you doing?" Damon growled, zipping to stand between Katherine and Bonnie again. Katherine nodded at Bonnie, and took a few hurried steps closer. Damon pushed her away casually, like an older brother dismissing an annoying sibling. She got up again, and Damon held out an arm, keeping her from walking forward. Katherine lept at him, and he pinned her against his body – her back to his chest – and twined his arm around her stomach.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Damon asked, an amused smile suddenly on his face. Bonnie had lost it.

_Not really_, she wanted to say, but instead: "We have to get her back to the tomb."

"What?" Damon frowned.

"Damon, I didn't mean to summon her," Bonnie said, getting up off the bed, confident that Katherine was restrained in Damon's arms. She took the torn shirt off and made her way to Damon's closet.

What a strange sight they must make, Damon thought. He was holding a struggling, emaciated little vampire, desperate to attack the half naked witch going through his clothes. And he was doing it with a hand on his hip, completely bored by the lack of death and bloodshed. With Bonnie's back turned, a devious smirk crept across his lips as he reached for the stake.

"Damon!" Katherine yelled, squirming more against his hold. She had underestimated how weak this summoning spell, this lack of blood had made her!

Bonnie spun around with a vengeance, her eyes dazzling as she lit the stake on fire.

"What the fuck, Bonnie?" Damon growled, struggling to out the fire without letting go of Katherine.

"Light him up, Bennett," Katherine implored, setting her eyes on Bonnie as she pulled on one of Damon's black dress shirts. It hit her mid-thigh, and hung loosely from her frame. She was rolling up the sleeves when Katherine continued: "He's weak – mind and body."

"I'm not the one who is being held with one arm," Damon reminded her under his breath.

"He's a fool, Bonnie," Katherine said, keep her eyes trained on the witch as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "He's a liability. There's a _reason_ no one chooses him."

Damon moved to snap her neck. His anger was flaring – and he wasn't sure if it was because of what Katherine was saying, because he feared it might be true, or because he thought Bonnie was listening to her as she nodded her head in understanding.

"Don't!" Bonnie said, approaching Katherine. She was just out of touch.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Damon growled, "What's your plan, or we do this my way."

"We take her back to the tomb," Bonnie said with a shrug, like it was obvious.

"No!" Katherine said, struggling again. She slipped from his grip and ran for the door, but hesitated when she felt the pull tie her to Bonnie again. The hesitation was enough for Damon to reach out and grab her.

"If I snap her neck," Damon reasoned slowly, "It'll be _a lot_ easier to get her there."

"I brought you into this world," Katherine said, twisting her head so she was speaking into his ear, "And I can take you out of it."

Damon glared at her.

"I knew you were weak and useless, Damon," Katherine laughed humourlessly, "But to be under the thumb of a witch? You can't even meet my low expectations."

"She has to touch me," Bonnie explained, shifting awkwardly at the sight of Katherine whispering into Damon's ear. When Damon's angry eyes turned to face her, she had to force her breathing to remain steady. What had she told him?

Bonnie took a step closer to the pair, and Katherine stilled in his arms. A sly smile played at her lips, and Bonnie knew –_knew_- this could be a huge mistake. But she moved forward anyway.

The closer Bonnie got, the more Damon's face shifted to his vampire visage. She forced her step not to stutter. Could she still trust Damon? Could she _ever_ trust Damon?

"I'm going to touch you," Bonnie said to Katherine. Damon's grip on the vampire tightened.

Katherine's world was filled with riotous colors and sounds –popping everywhere, exploding and fizzing out. She had been overcome with great grief and guilt, and then hit with her human instincts harder than she had been in years: the need to live. She had lived and relived the deaths of her family, the aching fear of being pursued by Klaus, the gnawing desire to be free. First stop, delicious Bonnie whose body she would use and drain. Next stop, Stefan, whose body she would just use. One touch away from full strength. One touch.

Bonnie's eyes lifted to meet Damon's. He was looking at her, but not seeing her. She could tell, he was barely keeping it together. She reached out a hand, forcing it not to shake. Katherine squirmed in Damon's arms, trying to get closer to Bonnie.

"Damon," Bonnie said, mere inches away.

"Do it," Damon said, that wicked smile lighting up his face. A chill dashed down her spine – she wasn't sure if it was fear or desire – or if there was even a difference, these days.

Bonnie touched Katherine. The vampire closed her eyes as her senses came back.

Before Bonnie could move, or Katherine could draw a full breath – Damon snapped her neck.

_Don't underestimate the things that I will do_.


	14. the leaving song

**AN: Didn't want to keep you waiting for too long! Thanks for the lovely reviews. Let me know what you think =)**

**the leaving song**

_Don't waste your touch, you won't feel anything – or, were you sent to save me? You won't find anything worthy of redeeming._

"Relax, she's not dead." Damon said when he saw Bonnie's furious reaction as Katherine's broken body slumped to the floor. Her lips were still ruddied from his kisses, her skin glowing where his fingers had held her to him. Bonnie had glared at him so he quipped: "Even if she was, you could just summon her."

"Why did you do that?" Bonnie said, her voice steady with just a dash of angry disbelief daring to show.

"I told you," Damon said, his voice rumbling in a threatening way as he stepped over Katherine to tower over the young witch. "I will kill anyone you call."

When she frowned, unimpressed, he added: "Who isn't already dead, of course. And yeah, even then. Not allowed."

"I had it under control," Bonnie said, throwing her arms down in frustration. She jabbed Damon in the chest as she spoke: "We could have taken her back to the tomb."

"Really?" Damon laughed drily, his eyes narrowing with anger. "What was your plan for when she was ripping your neck out?"

"She wouldn't have," Bonnie shook her head.

"Not everyone has my amazing self restraint." Damon said, a small smirk pulling at his lips even as he studied her stuttering reaction. She thought Katherine would keep up her deal to do as she said? If so, she was a terrible judge of character. Then again, she was just kissing Damon, so...

"I would torch her," Bonnie said, her eyes steady on his, "Pin her to a wall, or stake her somewhere non-lethal. Aneurysm. All of the above."

"I see knowing me has had its benefits," Damon muttered, noting that she had tried most of her punishments on him at one point or the other. "But it wouldn't stop her for long."

"We could have gotten her to go back," Bonnie insisted, interrupting his thoughts, "We could have made a deal."

"What deal could you possibly make?" Damon scoffed, "You have nothing she wants."

"She wanted _me_." Bonnie said, meeting Damon's glare defiantly. "Would it be such a big deal if the promise of a taste of my blood could lure her back?"

"You'd let her bite you?" Damon said, his face twisting with disgust.

"If it came to it." Bonnie nodded, more talking herself into it that him. It wasn't a foolproof plan, no. But if she could get to the tomb – if Katherine was as overcome for her blood as she claimed – maybe they could lure her close enough to combine their magic and strength to trap her inside.

Damon took a step closer, reaching out to grab her neck before shoving his hands down at his sides, as if he couldn't trust himself to touch her. "Did you not _just _tell me I couldn't bite you?"

His eyes were doing that maniacal, narrowing thing that left her breath catching in her throat. "That's different."

"How is it different?" Damon said, taking another step towards her. They were almost touching now, she could feel his breath on her face when he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "How?"

"I just didn't want you to kill her!" Bonnie blurted out, her face flushed with frustration. She blinked her eyes furiously to keep tears from falling as a look of betrayal flashed across his face.

"What's so special about her?" Damon punctuated his remark by kicking her slumped body.

"It's not her, it's you," Bonnie snapped, reaching up to drag his arms off her shoulders. "Haven't you killed enough?"

Damon let out a humourless sound lost between a laugh and a scoff. He had a strange, amused expression on his face as if he had been duped and couldn't believe he had fallen for it. He walked backwards to Katherine and slumped to pick her up.

"Damon, I don't want you to kill people because of my mistakes," Bonnie said, "Especially not Katherine."

His eyes were dark and wary. When he spoke, it was low and menacing – almost threatening: "Right, I'm the bad guy."

"No," Bonnie said quickly, surprise clear on her face, "That's not what I meant."

"To the tomb?" Damon said, shifting Katherine's weight in his arms. "She's only going to be out for so long before she heals, so I better get going."

"We," Bonnie clarified, "I'm coming with you."

Damon arched a brow, "I'm not going to stake her."

"I know," Bonnie snapped again, her eyes lighting up angrily. "This is my mess, let me clean it up."

"For the record," Damon said before slinging Katherine's slouched body over one shoulder, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Leave the premonitions to me." Bonnie said, sidestepping him to lead the way to the car.

**BDBDBDBD**

_Break down and cease all feeling; burn now what once was breathing._

It was raining when they got into the car.

Bonnie sat in the passenger's seat with her arms crossed. She was frustrated. She was regretting her actions. She shouldn't have touched Katherine yet. If she awoke – any second now – she would hear the hammering of her heart. She would know she was afraid. But didn't she need her to smell her blood? Didn't she need Katherine to want to devour her – like Damon had – so she could make the trade: a taste of blood, for a step beyond the barrier. It was simple, wasn't it? Give Katherine her wrist, and use her powers to shove her back into the tomb. No Damon necessary.

"Maybe I acted too hastily," Bonnie offered, eyeing Damon's white knuckles tightly gripping the steering wheel. A muscle in his jaw twitched with her admission. "Not that you were exactly willing to come up with a plan with me."

Damon didn't say anything, which only made her blood boil more. Bonnie gritted her teeth. He was treating her like a child.

"No one asked for your involvement," Damon said with a forced smile that did nothing to hide the disdain in his eyes. It was like old Damon all over again. "You should leave the scheming to me."

"You're not killing her." Bonnie repeated, her voice rising.

"Her life isn't yours to end," Damon said, his voice eerily calm and determined. He kept his eyes steadfastly on the road ahead, "It's mine."

"Damon," Bonnie began with a sigh. She didn't want Damon to kill Katherine. She didn't really want to kill her either, without Stefan knowing – there was a reason they were keeping her alive, after all. She had information and she was relatively easily bribed. But more importantly, she didn't want Damon to have to live another hundred and fifty years with that kind of guilt: she didn't want to summon Damon and see his heart breaking eternally because he had been the one to kill the greatest love of his life. For her mistake, she couldn't see his heart break even more.

"What?" Damon spat, taking a turn more sharply than necessary as he pressed on the gas. Bonnie's arms shot out to steady herself. Katherine's body slumped against the door on Bonnie's side and she thought she heard her moan. It was dark outside – the wind whipping angrily against the trees, the moon only a sliver of light in the sky. Bonnie stifled a shiver.

"I'll throw her in the tomb," Bonnie said resolutely. "You stay back."

"Ha," Damon barked. "You think your magic will cut it now she's back in top vamp form?"

"Stop underestimating me." Bonnie snapped, her voice angry and threatening.

"Like hell I'm letting you go in there alone," Damon added, "What a bad babysitter I would be."

"_What?_" Bonnie said, her brows creasing as Damon took another sharp turn – on purpose, she thought as she adjusted her position on the chair. Katherine's body tumbled off the seat onto the floor. Bonnie kept on eye on her peripherally.

"Elena wanted me to make sure you didn't go around zapping your powers again," Damon said, his voice a bit too smug and pleased with himself.

"Funny," Bonnie said, spitting the word like a curse, "Stefan wanted me to make sure you didn't go around killing pretty young girls."

"Then he shouldn't have left me with one." Damon said, evenly. They were nearing the tomb – the road was more desolate, less smooth. A few bumps sent Bonnie bouncing in her seat. She gripped the handle on the roof near her window to keep herself steady.

"Is that a threat?" Bonnie said, her sentence breaking mid-bump.

"A promise." Damon said. A chill spiked up Bonnie's spine, even as she knew he was talking about Katherine.

"Look, we should just leave her—" Bonnie began, trying to be reasonable, when a loud shriek broke her thoughts.

"What I want to know," Damon interrupted Bonnie loudly. His eyes were even more intently glued to the road. His fingers gripped the steering wheel, relaxed, and gripped it again, "Is what _emotion_ you were sharing with Katherine to summon her."

"I don't know." Bonnie said, too quickly.

"Bullshit." Damon frowned. He jaw clenched. Bonnie turned to face him, ashamed to notice how handsome his profile was cut against the darkness, even with his brow furrowing and his lips pulled into a tight, unreadable line. "You were hating me."

"No more than usual," Bonnie said, regretting the words as they left her mouth. She quickly added, "You were hurting me."

"_I_ was hurting _you_." Damon repeated, "I get that you're jealous of Elena—"

"I am _not_ jealous of Elena!" Bonnie said, her voice rising as the wind kicked up and howled at the car. Dammit, maybe she was jealous of Elena – that is something she and Katherine had in common. Katherine groaned in the background. "I just don't like being used to get to my best friend."

"You're a witch," Damon's face twisted with condescension, "Get used to it. Someone will always be using you."

"Not _someone_," Bonnie corrected, "Just you – always you."

"So maybe don't be so trusting," Damon said.

"You're an asshole," Bonnie said simply.

"What a revelation." Damon said, his eyes widening before narrowing at her. "Don't tell me you're just learning this."

"Why are you being so mean?" Bonnie frowned. "I thought we were, whatever – friends, at least."

Damon frowned. "This is just me." What was with girls and hating him? And then blaming him for it? Ok, maybe she had _some_ justification in blaming him for her Grams' death –but to hate him because he had dinner with Elena just to tell her to keep Stefan away – was that an overreaction or what? Just like Katherine and Elena – always hating him for stupid things like breaking Jeremy's neck (what! He was wearing a ring! No harm, no foul.), or for just loving them. He let an expressionless mask hide his hurt.

"No, it's not," Bonnie said dismissively. "And as soon as we get rid of Katherine, things will go back to normal, trust me."

For thirty seconds, there was eerie silence. Damon turned to her, and Bonnie would swear he was about to smile – about to smile and move his hand from the steering wheel to pat hers reassuringly and say, "I trust you." But instead, there was the siren-shriek of an ancient vampire overridden with blood lust.

The sound of Katherine lunging forward echoed in Bonnie's head as if it were happening in slow motion. She was in full vamp-mode, her face marred with dead, black lines and her fangs protruding. She lunged for Damon first, wrapping her hands around his neck, but he turned the car swiftly and sent her flying against the opposite side before she could twist.

Katherine reached for Bonnie next, but she had already unbuckled the seat belt and was facing the back seat with her arms outstretched. She sent Katherine flying and pinned her to the back seat – her eyes kept carefully on her. But Katherine just let a small smile curl around her lips before she cackled. She started to move forward – the spell was holding her back, but Bonnie could feel Katherine pressing forward with equal strength. It was only slowing her down.

"She's too strong," Damon said, glancing at the scene in the mirror. "Just a bit longer; we're almost there."

Bonnie focused her eyes on Katherine, and imagined veins bursting in her brain. Katherine winced, and raised a hand to her head as if she had been stung by an unpleasant insect. She smiled again at Bonnie, her eyes lighting up, "You've gotten stronger, Bennett."

Bonnie shocked her again, harder, in response. She could feel the power draining from her.

"Your glow was so lovely," Katherine teased, enjoying the tension in the air, "I just wanted to drain you dry."

"Almost there," Damon said, pushing the car to move faster. They could both hear Bonnie's heart thumping wildly from the strength of the spell. The whole car smelled of singed oranges.

"I'm going to enjoy feeding on your power," Katherine grinned wickedly.

Damon's jaw twitched, almost imperceptibly.

"Oh," Katherine noticed, remarking with exaggerated delight, "Has he not _tasted_ you yet?"

"Shut up," Bonnie growled, her eyes darkening as she sent a wave of pain towards Katherine. She doubled over momentarily, but the glint was in her eyes when she began pushing against the barrier Bonnie erected again.

"When I drain her," Katherine promised to Damon, "I'll let you watch. If you're good, I'll leave you a drop." She licked her lips, her eyes focusing on Bonnie's neck.

"Here." Damon said, pressing the breaks sharply, and sending Bonnie falling back towards the windshield. Damon reached out to grab her before she could be hurt, but Katherine went barrelling forward through the shield. Damon set Bonnie down outside, moving at lightning speed.

Katherine groaned as she dusted shards of glass from her skin. "Your driving hasn't improved."

"I meant to do that," Damon shrugged. He spoke over his shoulder, "Bonnie, if you would be so kind."

"Gladly," Bonnie said, her voice as dark as Damon's eyes as he lunged at Katherine. Bonnie focused on all the glass shards until they were levitating in the air. Damon fought with Katherine – their speed sending them flying around the area. From the occasional glimpse, she could see Katherine tearing at Damon's flesh. With a quick incantation, she sent the shards flying straight for Katherine.

Katherine roared as the shards of glass hit her. She shook them off easily. "Have to do better than that!" She exclaimed as she rolled over on top of Damon. She was straddling him, pinning his arms with her hands as she leaned down to trace her fangs across his neck. "Break my neck, I'll rip yours out."

The wind rushed up and – as Damon was about to kick Katherine off – a tree branch snapped and went flying into her back. The edge grazed Damon's skin and his eyes widened in surprise.

Katherine rolled over off of him, her breaths coming in sharp gasps. She had been hit through the stomach – it wouldn't kill her if they removed it soon. He looked up to see Bonnie standing over them. She was standing on the car's hood with her arms outstretched. Her hair was flying ravenously in the wind around her – her shirt tails flying out like a cape. Bonnie's green eyes had glazed over with darkness that sparkled the occasional emerald glint as her lips moved faster and faster.

"To the tomb," Bonnie said, her voice incredibly serious. Damon couldn't help but find her incredibly sexy as she leaped off the car hood effortlessly, one arm still outstretched to slowly pull the stake from Katherine's body.

Damon nodded, turning to Katherine gasping on the ground. "Damon," she was whispering, "we can take the witch – the two of us. We can share her."

"I don't share," Damon said, almost with a laugh as if it were the most amusing thing he'd ever heard. Don't you know me at all? He grabbed her by the hair and began to drag her towards the tomb. She shrieked in response, stunning Bonnie with the raw violence in her voice. Bonnie followed behind, eyes trained on the struggling woman, as Damon pulled her body towards the tomb. She struggled fiercely as Bonnie slowly removed the stake.

When they reached the barrier, Bonnie had removed it entirely, and Katherine was lying limp in Damon's arms.

"You didn't summon me just to throw me back," Katherine spat out. Damon opened his mouth to let out a cutting remark, when Bonnie spoke.

"You are a mistake," Bonnie said, "In every sense of the word. You have always been a mistake."

"He's the mistake," Katherine said, her face twisted in disgust as she yanked herself free from Damon's grasp. Bonnie kept her distance, and Damon moved to stand between them. She held out a hand, trying to push Katherine backwards into the tomb – but she couldn't. Bonnie struggled to keep her face passive, hoping that Katherine wouldn't realize how weak she was.

"I should never have wasted my time on you," Katherine said, shaking her head. "You're my greatest regret."

"Funny," Damon muttered, "Stefan says the same about you."

Bonnie took a step forward, trying to increase the power of her spell with her proximity, but Katherine didn't even take a step back.

"She'll figure it out too," Katherine smiled, nodding at Bonnie, "And then you'll be all alone again. If I remember correctly, summoning spells require similar emotions. The only emotions I feel now are love for Stefan and hate for you."

Damon rolled his eyes, "Your little tricks won't work here."

"She will betray you, Damon," Katherine promised, watching as Bonnie held up both hands towards her. The witch was weak. "And then it'll be you in this tomb instead of me."

"Unlikely." Damon said, but he had hesitated, glancing back at Bonnie. She was so focused on her spell, he doubted she heard what was going on around her. In the moment it took for him to glance behind him, Katherine lunged forward again.

She grabbed Bonnie's neck, shoving her into the hard ground. Damon heard the blood as it spilled from her head. She was gone. Out. No magic. Just Damon and Queen Bitch Katherine.

Damon grabbed Katherine and threw her off of Bonnie's unconscious form. He spared her a glance – ugh, mortals, so weak – before returning his attention to Katherine. They shoved each other – wrestled, bushed. The scent of oranges was overwhelming. He inhaled, and felt a surge of delicious power erupt inside him.

Bonnie was _his_. Emily gave her to him. Bonnie was his to guard, to keep, to _have_. Bonnie was his. The thoughts flooded his mind, inspired every punch and toss and kick as he fought Katherine back into the tomb. His chest tightened as he smelled her blood in the air: a strange, possessive desire overwhelmed him. She was _his_, and Katherine had no right to harm her. He tore at her, snapped her arms. When she overpowered him, he inhaled deeply and threw her off of him again. He didn't know if it was the magic, or if it was just Bonnie – somehow – miraculously pushing him to new limits of his power.

He didn't realize the fight was over until he was standing over Katherine's unconscious body. He had snapped her neck again. She would wake soon. He tossed her further backwards into the tomb.

He heard Bonnie's moan and he rushed forward to meet her, but met an invisible wall. _Trapped_. He was stuck in the tomb.

**BDBDBDBD**

_Reach out, and you may take my heart away._

"I'm sorry," Bonnie said, her voice barely a whisper as she choked back her despair. She'd failed. Her hair was both matted to her sweaty, bloody forehead and a wild mess from the skirmish. She could feel the power draining from her. But to Damon, even without the spell – she was still a delicious, caramel glow, and her flushed cheeks only added to her rough beauty.

"We should've staked the bitch when we had the chance." Damon muttered. He was standing casually with an arced brow, hands in pockets, on the other side of the barrier. Bonnie moved to wrap her arms around him, but he shook his head "no" – eyes motioning to the darkness where he had abandoned Katherine.

"I should have," Bonnie said resolutely. "It should have been me."

"I would have, if you'd let me!" Damon said, his voice filled with accusation that she didn't even wince at.

"No," Bonnie said, shaking her head. "I can't let _you_ kill her."

"Are you joking?" Damon didn't think he'd ever been more frustrated by someone. "Why the hell not? If anyone should get to kill her, it's me."

"Damon, you can't," Bonnie smiled sadly at him. "You have enough sadness to carry around. Sure, Katherine would be dead." She met his eyes now with sincerity, "But it would kill you to know you did it – to know forever, that you killed your greatest love."

Damon shook his head, but Bonnie silenced him with her next words: "And it would kill me to know that I was responsible."

"Bonnie," Damon frowned. That was the problem with humans: too damn sacrificial and caring. Caring. He was a bit stunned to know that she'd spent so much time thinking about what killing Katherine would do to him, and not what it would do for Elena.

"I said I'd protect you," Bonnie smiled, wiping at her damp eyes. Even her tears shimmered with light in the darkness: they were like perfect orbs – like liquid diamonds as they clung to her lashes. Damon was entranced: a woman crying over him, and not because of him. "Guess I didn't do a good job."

"Evidently," Damon smirked, "Leave the protecting to me."

"I'll fix this." Bonnie said, determinedly.

"Go," Damon said suddenly, shifting his weight. Katherine groaned as she woke up in the distance.

"No," Bonnie said. She took a steadying breath, and raised a shaking hand to move her hair from her face. She licked her lips. "I'll call you."

"No," Damon frowned. He needed her strong if she was going to get out of there. She'd already used so much of her magic juju tonight. He was stuck here with Katherine for the next night or so, and undoubtedly – they would not be getting any rest. "Go home."

"I'll call you," Bonnie said again, her eyes scanning their surroundings. The blood was sticky, drawing a red line from her temple to the height of her cheekbones. Her hair was tousled, and her clothing dirty – but her eyes were glinting with determination. Damon felt a wave of satisfaction settle over him, knowing she was safe – knowing she was going to be curling up in his bed tonight and thinking of him. "Come closer," Bonnie said, even as she was moving into the barrier.

Damon cast a nervous glance behind him, not wanting to continue the battle with Katherine. He stepped to the edge of the barrier, and let his arms fall beside him.

Bonnie waited until Damon's eyes met hers. He seemed so tired, so resigned to his fate. He didn't think she could get him out. "Think about this," Damon warned, "Katherine is all over you – you could summon her too."

"Easy." Bonnie said. She took Damon's shirt off quickly, casting it behind her. Standing in front of him in her bra, she unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall to her ankles. She stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. She paused to look at Damon's face – he was studying her intently, the vampire visage threatening to overwhelm his face. She felt a surge of power knowing that he concentrated so intently on her body.

Bonnie focused on the sound of the rain, holding her hands in front of her like a pool. Suddenly, the rain was slanting into the tomb, she twirled her wrist and it was washing lightly over her body, dripping in delicious wet lines over her curves.

Damon shifted his weight, anxious about the other vampire behind him. Surely, she would be waking soon. "If you're mine," Damon pushed his luck, "You should be able to summon me with nothing at all."

Bonnie smiled and snapped her fingers. The water droplets dissolved off of her like steam floating from her skin. Behind her, his shirt caught on fire and burned high. Damon frowned: "That was my favourite black shirt."

"I'll buy you a new one," Bonnie rolled her eyes, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Come closer," Damon said, not believing the words himself as they escaped his lips. He was risking Bonnie. Asking her to step into the tomb where Katherine could reach her. But he couldn't help it: he needed to feel her – one last time, he needed to touch her.

Bonnie stepped into the tomb. She immediately reached for his hands, clasping them in her own. She raised them up between them and pressed her lips to his palms. She rested her forehead lightly against his chest and sighed, "Damon, I'm so sorry."

"Call me out," Damon said, feigning confidence in her abilities.

"Want to cross the barrier," Bonnie insisted, "Just want it enough."

"I will," Damon said, inhaling the scent of her skin. She smelled of flambéed oranges. He pressed his lips to her scalp, nuzzled her hair with his face. He slipped his hands from her grasp and reached out to pull her tightly against him. _Stay_, he wanted to say. But knew she couldn't. She couldn't.

"I'm going to call you," Bonnie whispered into his ear, her eyes scanning the darkness for a sign of Katherine, "And then I'm going to leave. And you're going to want to come out. And you're going to come to me."

"And if I can't?" Damon asked, rubbing his cheek against her face. He ran his nose against hers, brushed her lips lightly with his without delving into a kiss. The prospect of being away from her while under that spell – it was just too much.

"You will." Bonnie said, determination fresh in her eyes. Damon smiled sadly as her lips pressed against his ear. Any other time, he would've enjoyed the attention. But she wasn't singing him a gifted song: she was about to sing her leaving song. She would leave him, vampire skills reduced, alone with insane Katherine, with nothing but a tug at his gut to remind him of the beautiful witch he had watched walk away.

"I'm in here," Bonnie sang softly into his ear. A sharp spike of pleasure hit him as he heard her song – so personally, so close –for the first time. Her voice was sweet and melodious: soothing, and delicious. He closed his eyes as she sang. She slid down Damon's body, and he smiled at the feeling of her soft curves pressed against him. Another time, another situation – and he would've been the happiest man alive (or, not alive). Bonnie took a deep breath in the middle of her song and raised up on her toes, pulling Damon's face to her forehead.

"I need you to hold all of the pain," Bonnie sang softly as Damon realized that she was nudging his lips to kiss her wound. His eyes fluttered open as he scented the sharp, delicious citrusy blood.

She was glowing more radiantly than ever in the darkness. She was a bundle of iridescent caramel – lit up with flushed pinks, and a deep, delicious dark red for her blood. Her emerald eyes were sparkling like stars in the night. She was glowing all over, but her song wasn't over. She was pausing, humming, waiting for him to do something.

She nudged him lightly, reaching her hand up to twine around his hair and pull him down. Damon took the hint: he dragged his lips and tongue against the trail of blood on her face. Bonnie gasped in pleasure at the feeling of Damon's hungry lips against her skin – she felt when his fang sliced her wound open and lapped up some more. She shivered under his grasp, tightening her hold on his hair as his hands ran up and down her half naked body.

Suddenly, she shoved him off of her and stepped back. Dizzy with her blood, and lost in the sweet, sultry pleasure of her taste, Damon let her. His tongue was still thick with the taste of citrus and caramel – it was too heavy in his mouth to speak.

Bonnie finished her song. She smiled at Damon and donned her jeans. Katherine groaned in the background.

"Want me, Damon," Bonnie said, her eyes flashing that gorgeous emerald. Damon's vamp face was ordinarily twined with black marks, but this time –as her eyes flashed – he licked his lips, and his icey blues flashed as well.

Bonnie left quickly after that. Katherine awoke, and ran at him, but he only had to extend and arm to keep her at bay. Bonnie's blood was running through him – he could almost see the glow of her life rush through his body. He felt like he was on fire in the most delicious of ways – it was like he had her inside him, but he didn't – and he needed, craved more of her. Katherine was secondary to this want. Katherine and Klaus and all the rest of them – secondary to this need.

Damon's eyes focused as he scanned the darkness. This boundary – secondary to this heady desire. Damon wanted her.

_I took her life; I ate it slow – now it consumes me._


	15. as long as you're mine

**AN: Thank you for your reviews, favourites, alerts and of course your patience! There isn't much B-D banter in this chapter, but for some reason I don't think you'll mind ;) **

**BDBDBD**

_Somehow I've fallen under your spell_

It had been the longest week of his life when he finally crossed the threshold.

Sure, Damon may have been able to do it sooner if he wasn't constantly incapacitating his cell mate. But even with Bonnie's blood burning brightly as it hummed in his veins, he couldn't break a weak. The blood taunted him – wrapped around his bones and called out for its source. If he had a heart, it would be completely intoxicated on her thick, sultry citrusy blood.

All week he felt her call. He felt it at the center of his ribs, and at the base of his feet. She was pulling her towards him: seducing him with memories of her naked body untouchable before him. The memory of her lips on his skin – her sincere eyes, her trusting hands as she explored his monster's mask. He felt it all at once – his desire amplified by her blood in his body. His skin held her, but his arms didn't – and he itched for her, craved her warmth, felt ill at ease without the brush of her soft body against his own.

When he closed his eyes, Damon saw her trembling beneath him. He would nudge her skin with his forehead and nose as he trailed deep, desperate kisses all over her body – the curve of skin under her chin, at the center of her collar bone, in the valley of her breasts and down the dip of her waist. He would grasp her hips in his hands and run his tongue and teeth over those luscious curves. He would flex his fingers into the flesh of her ass and peel the black lace panties down with his teeth. And he would see the light: red, and hot and hungry – wanting him. Her fingers would get lost in his hair, pulling and scratching at his scalp as her lips kissed the air with his name – and he would mark her, finally. He would make her his own.

Damon hoped she would come to him in his dreams. He hoped she would comfort him with kisses. He tried to search for hers to invade, but the threshold was a block against even the weakest vampire powers he could still access.

He would make her pay, he promised as he huddled in the darkness with an eye out for his ex – in moans, and sighs and pleas for his body. She would pay him with that sexy voice she'd used to draw him to her. In broken gasps, he would extract her payment from the center of her lungs in the same melody that sparked his dreams – a sultry, rusty "_Damon_".

**BDBDBDBD**

_See how bright we shine?_

It had been the longest week of her life when Bonnie awoke in her bed to the sound of familiar footsteps on her porch. The ache in her gut, the feeling of forgetting something important, had dissolved into something delicious: tantalizing anxiety like electricity twined itself around her legs. That familiar heat that had been hitting her at odd moments – after breakfast, in math class, while taking out the garbage – was back with a vengeance. Damon's desire for her blood had blossomed inside her as she mirrored his emotions – as she confused them for her own. But it wasn't blood she was craving: it was the dizzying, intoxicating feeling of something else entirely.

When Elena and Stefan had returned, Stefan had suggested she remain at the Boarding House but Bonnie knew she couldn't – knew what was coming for her.

The spell grew stronger as time went on. She hadn't been apart from him so long before – and she had never felt his heart so strongly. She felt the rush of desire pooling between her legs and spiralling up her stomach and knew he was thinking of her. She felt a cold chill down her spine and a pang of anger and regret and knew he was snapping Katherine's neck. In the evenings, as she sat by herself with a cup of tea and Emily's grimoire casually before her, she felt his solitude. She felt it between her ribs, above her breasts – that tight contraction that felt like grief and preceded tears she knew he would never cry.

When she heard his footfall on the porch, Bonnie woke from her heated dreams with a start. Her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she kicked the covers to the ground. Her footsteps sounded heavier to her, but even they dulled in comparison to her thundering heart. She shook her head before she turned the handle to her bedroom door, and again as she paused at the bottom of the stairs – as if she could dispel the fog that had settled over her brain.

Before she opened the door, she could feel him. She could feel his presence: his heat, his desire, his intense passion – in a sudden wave it rushed over her. Bonnie licked her lips, twirled her hair around her finger and settled it over one shoulder. For a moment, she regretted not preparing better – she should have been dressed in something other than an old t-shirt and cotton panties, should have lain out candles to light or willed it to rain a soundtrack to their reunion. But that doubt disappeared as the butterflies surged: the fluttering of their wings rushed from her stomach and spread in a spiral over her body. Her knees trembled and her palms started to sweat – she felt her cheeks light up with an anxious blush, felt her throat tighten in anticipation.

Bonnie flung open the door and there he was.

The man who inspired a sharp, delicious tug at her heart and a bright heat at the apex of her thighs, stood towering over her – one arm against the door frame, one eye brow arched in the same angle as the smirk that pulled at his lips.

"What took you so long?" she heard herself asking as her eyes met his: icey blue and emerald green stuck and refused to budge. She couldn't look away as his eyes studied hers. She thought he was memorizing her – how still and unmoving he was.

"Did I keep you waiting?" he asked. His voice hit her with a rush of heat that shot down her spine. She ached to touch him, but licked her lips and flexed her fingers instead.

"Yes," Bonnie said, crossing her arms and offering a pout. "I'm not a patient girl."

"It wasn't easy getting out," Damon said, his other arm coming to lean on the door frame until he took up her entire field of view. Tilting her head to look up at him, Damon was stunned by the beauty of her teasing eyes. That caramel was so much richer – the greens, the sexy flush of her cheeks and her confident stance as she dared to stand in front of him with nothing but panties keeping her from him – he could almost taste her on his lips already.

"I didn't mean to trap you," Bonnie frowned.

"But you did," Damon didn't miss a beat. Bonnie took one step backwards, as if daring him to enter, but he didn't budge. _Not yet_. "And for that you'll have to pay."

"What are you going to do about it?" Bonnie said, mirroring his challenging expression. She jutted out her chin and – so help him – she was so enticing he had to dig his hands into the door frame not to reach out and grab her.

Bonnie willed herself not to tremble as his gaze raked over her hungrily. She wanted to do the same to him – wanted to tear his clothes from his body and kiss every inch of that cool skin she could cover. "Well?"

"You belong to me, Bennett," Damon said as his eyes rested on her breasts. They shot up to meet hers, and she saw a flash of mischief in them.

"I do not," she said slowly.

"And at the end, you'll see things differently."

"Really?" Bonnie laughed to disguise the thrill she felt at the sexily reckless tone of his voice. But if she thought her cocky pose would throw him off, she was wrong – he saw her glow turn pink and spark into curls of fireworks around her. He saw her glow and wanted to taste it in his mouth, wanted to absorb her heat into himself – wanted to keep the rest of the world away. Bonnie took a step back and raised her hands up as if to say again – _Well?_

"If I come in," Damon grated, his voice gravelly and focused. He was tethered to her: he wouldn't leave, couldn't leave. He had waited long enough: for her blood and her body. So he didn't know why he offered her the empty warning: "I won't stop myself."

"And?" Bonnie said.

"This is it, Bonnie," he said, enjoying her quick intake of breath as her name rolled off his tongue, "After I come in, there's no taking it back. I am going to have you. Every last inch of you," he licked his lips, "Every corner of you is mine."

"Damon," Bonnie rolled her eyes, and waved a hand dismissively at his intensity. She met his eyes with feigned boredom, "Will you just shut up and come in?"

**BDBDBDBD**

_Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight – I need help believing I'm with you tonight_

Damon was in front of her in seconds. Her emotions were sparking off of her lusciously – he felt her desire tinge his own with a white heat that urged him forward. The barrier broken.

Bonnie blinked up at Damon towering over her. He moved to kiss her, but she stopped him by raising a hand.

"I said," Damon growled, about to smack her hand away when she interrupted.

"When you touch me," Bonnie demanded, "Don't stop."

"I won't," Damon scoffed, taking a step forward as she took one back.

"No, you don't understand," Bonnie said, meeting his eyes. "When you touch me, don't let go."

"I won't," Damon said, his eyes flashing with annoyance. He wanted to grab her – wanted to crush her body into his, was more than ready to hear that voice stutter his name in pleasure against his ear.

"I've thought about it," Bonnie reiterated. "As long as we keep touching and keep contact, the spell won't break."

Damon couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "You've thought about it, huh?"

Bonnie returned his smile, "Every day."

"Did you touch yourself," he dared, "thinking about me?"

The hot pink blush that lit her cheeks up was answer enough.

"Bonnie, when I get my hands on you," Damon promised, licking his lips, "I'm not letting you go."

"Ok," Bonnie said, taking a step closer. She reached out and began to undo the buttons on his shirt when Damon tore it from his body in one swift move. Their eyes locked, she pulled her own over her head. Before she could blink, she was pressed against him.

Bonnie gasped when their skin touched, and continued uttering little whimpers of pleasure as his hands roamed the curves of her back and the promise of her hips. One hand flew up to support her head as he pulled her to him and devoured her lips in a kiss.

The way his lips hit hers – the slant, the pace, the pressure – it was like he was hungry. It was like he was searching for something. Bonnie felt Damon's emotions rise in her own chest, and she clutched him closer to him – opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue with her own.

His mouth slid across her face to sample her chin and cheeks – he devoured her glow like he was starved for sweet caramel. When her stuttered breath fanned across his cheek, he felt desire surge tight and heavy. He clutched her hips, slid his hands to her ass and pulled her flush against him – in seconds they were pressed against a wall. A picture frame hit the floor, but he didn't care. When his mouth found her neck – when he kissed and sucked and licked without biting, she didn't care either.

"_Damon,_" Bonnie whispered, her chest heaving against his. He anchored her to the wall by pressing her center against stomach. Bonnie shimmied lower and uttered another delicious moan when she found evidence of how much he wanted her.

"I want you," Damon growled into her neck, pressing his body hard against hers.

"I know," Bonnie said on a cry. She captured his lips in her own, "I can feel you."

Damon grinned against her kiss and thrust against her again. She was hot against him: a promise of moist, delicious red light hiding behind that cotton.

"No," Bonnie laughed. Even her laugh was enchanting and dreamy. She paused, to take his hand and press it against her breast. Her heart thundered beneath it. "In here," she whispered, bringing his hand to her lips before returning it to her chest, "I feel you in here."

Damon enjoyed her focused, passionate eyes for only a second before he ran his thumb against her nipple and they clouded over. He replaced his thumb with his lips and embraced the pleasure of her desperate moans, her furrowed brow and closed eyes as she unwittingly ground herself against him. He couldn't say, _I feel you, too._ He couldn't admit that the pleasure of her desire was more than others felt – couldn't admit that it was _so_ much more than the sexy sensation of being desired. There was a strange connection between them from this spell – something more than a tug or a vision twined together – there was an exchange that made her chills his own, that made her rushing heart feel like it was beating in his chest, that made her lust make him crave her more. But he could enjoy it – he could build his desire up with her sexy moans as she writhed against him with little gasps of air.

"Upstairs," Bonnie said before finding herself crushed under his weight onto her bed. His vampire habits are quickly coming back, she noted with a hint of worry.

It was a hot night – hotter still with his body pressed against hers and his mouth worshipping her own. She was sticky with sweat, but Damon didn't seem to notice as he pulled her leg up and held it in place around him.

"Don't let go," he warned, pausing to nip at the under curve of her breast. She flexed her leg to keep him steady. After some awkward shoving and kicking, he was as undressed as she was. When he settled between her legs, she was shocked by the sudden, surprising heat she felt. Damon groaned into her neck, apparently enjoying it as much as she did. He ran his hands down her body, gripped her hips and pulled her flush against him with an approving smirk.

"I thought of this," Damon mumbled, words falling from his throat as his chest tightened with a strange feeling – happiness? Two thin pieces of fabric separated him from the heaven of her body. He wanted her; and the knowledge that she wanted him – the rush of her feelings fluttering anxiously in his chest in tune with his own – only made him need her more. Damon turned his face to lay open-mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulders. Everywhere his lips touched lit up with that red light and burst into frenzied fireworks. "You're beautiful."

"I-I am?" Bonnie stuttered, blinking uncomprehendingly at Damon. Both the women he had loved had looked like Elena – the idea that Damon found her not attractive or sexy but _beautiful_ stunned her.

"Gorgeous," Damon said, punctuating each word with a long kiss that stopped long enough for her to catch her breath: "Stunning. Captivating. Fucking sexy."

Bonnie took a deep breath and pressed against Damon's shoulders with her palms. He let her flip him – let her straddle him with her hot core and lower her mouth to capture his. He rested his hands comfortably on her ass and gave in to her consuming mouth. Her kisses were slow and lazy, but her soft lips and approving sighs sent sharp thrills of desire through him – thrills he was sure she felt as she responded by grinding her body into his.

She shifted her lips to his jawline – lay light pecks all over his face, sucked on his ear and kissed his neck where his pulse used to pound. Sliding down his body, Bonnie bent her knees to hook her toes into his black boxers. She raised her eyes to meet his, sliding his underwear down very slowly. His hands flexed against her body – like he was afraid she would move or steam into the air – and she grinned playfully, "Want to test a theory?"

"Huh?" Damon muttered, his mind foggy with the intensity of his desire.

"I can feel you, Damon," Bonnie reminded him, tugging his boxers lower. She felt him shift and kick until he was free of them. A sudden wave of heat hit her at the thought of him naked beneath her. She moved lower, laying kisses against his chest and abs. She lowered her body on top of his, in a deliberate move to feel his erection hot against her skin. His head fell back with a groan, and she let out a pleased hiss of breath at the contact.

"Fuck," Damon growled. She was dazzling – almost hypnotic as she moved lower on his body, laying wet kisses against his chest and making him twitch and tremble at the contact. Had this been sex as a human? He could hardly remember this slow burn, this decadent flood of emotions that transformed her every sigh, her every little smile and clutching finger into a surge of pride and burst of confusing happiness.

And then she licked him. His eyes widened at the contact of her tongue; he felt his body shudder as she teased him with her mouth. "Fuck," he growled again, his eyes falling closed. Her hair brushed the inside of his thighs and he moaned: "_Bonnie._"

She moaned in return, felt her thighs clenching in response as if she craved his body there. "I can't tell," she admitted against his stomach as she shuddered, "What is you wanting me, and what's me wanting you."

Damon could feel her all over: his desire for her was lighting up his body all over in sudden, hot bursts and electric flashes. Even when she moved her mouth slowly back up his body to his – even when she paused to press her center to his – even as she pressed her soft breasts against his chest – Damon was almost frozen in the fever pitch of his desire.

_Almost._ He flipped her over, pressed himself against her and dragged his finger across the waistband of her panties. He caught her mouth in his and kissed her longingly while he jerked his hand hard and tore the scrap of fabric from her body. He ran his fingers against her folders, cursing breathlessly at the wet heat that welcomed him – at the flood of sensations that flew between them in a generous cycle. He slipped a finger in and out of her, spurred on by her whimpers and sighs until he could take it no more – he refused to let her orgasm overcome him and finish without ever feeling her completely wrapped around him.

Fireworks shot from her skin into his when their skin touched, and burst up like begging flames when he removed his touch. She was hot – red light engulfed them, wrapped around him and pulled him to her: trapped him against her. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him, inviting him: he met her eyes with his and they both felt it. That sharp thrill of lust, that delicate desire. Their eyes connected when he entered her.

The pleasure built exponentially. Bonnie was sighing his name – broken whispers of her seductive voice painted the air with his name. He could have said, _Whose are you?_ And she would've sang it out still: "_Da.. mon.."_ in time with his thrusts.

Bonnie had never felt pleasure build this fast. She was already close to the brink – she felt it in her body as this incredibly handsome man stared down at her with a look of absolute awe on his face. She felt it in her heart as he whispered, rambling against her skin endearments and compliments about how good she felt, how long he'd wanted this, how often he thought of _this_ – waited for this, couldn't go on without this.

"You're perfect," Damon said, pulling her more tightly against him. She opened her legs so he could sink more deeply and they both trembled at the sweet, seeping pleasure. She felt her toes curl when he growled in his serious voice, his eyes narrowing and pinning her sight to his: "You're mine."

She nodded, barely comprehending anything beyond the sensations that were fluttering and sparking around her. So many emotions – so many sensations, such a quickly tightening coil at the bottom of her stomach – she could barely decipher what was real and what was the spell.

"Say you're mine," Damon said softly, his eyes searching her face.

"Damon," Bonnie whispered as he brushed her hair from her face while thrusting against her. Her whole body shuddered with his smirk: "You're mine."

"No," Damon tried again, lowering his hand to press against her clitoris. He was rewarded with a loud, throaty cry. "Say you're mine.

"Uhh, I'm close," Bonnie said, her brow furrowing in pleasure. Damon felt his desire spike with hers and forced himself to pause and torture them both: "Say it."

"Damon," Bonnie said, forcing her eyes to flutter open. She was on the edge – she could feel herself tensing and twitching underneath his skilled ministrations. She was overwhelmed – this was too much. Too incomprehensible. So she said the only thing she knew for certain: "I love you."

Damon clenched his teeth to keep from gaping – but the stutter in the rhythm was a dead give-away. He opened his mouth to protest, but Bonnie shook her head. "Don't say anything," she said as she reached down to press his hand against her again.

He searched the sentiments floating in the air for a hint of truth: but all he felt from her was confidence and kindness. There was no insecurity – there was no need for him to respond. She didn't want it. To the end, her heart was generous: she gave him her vulnerability without asking anything back. Damon kissed her – slow and soft – instead.

He felt her body clench his and he was forced to move: her thunderous desire was blocking his reason – clouding his judgment. He moved inside her and she arched her back. She moaned over and over again – begging for release, sending sweet endearments his way.

And then, suddenly, there it was: the greatest sensation he had ever felt. Bonnie came in a wave, calling out his name mixed with a rush of "Yes!" He felt her orgasm spark and burst inside himself – felt the hot waves overcome her – felt his own toes curl with her pleasure. He was on the edge, and he could tell his desire was about to push her over the edge again. He moved to pull out of her, but she stopped him.

"Stay," Bonnie said, gripping Damon to her.

She didn't want to break the spell. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she whispered. She had thought of this moment: no chance of pregnancy, no chance of STIs. They were adults who wanted each other and she couldn't bear to part from him – couldn't break the spell yet, couldn't let him end this moment by transitioning back to vamp. She was racked with another orgasm when he came.

She held him close to her afterwards, kept him pinned on top of her as long as she could. Damon's mind was fuzzy, his body was exhausted. He hadn't fed in a week. He knew that when the sun came, he would crave her – he would tear into her and suck her dry – he would never be forgiven.

Carefully, he slid around her and pulled her flush against him. Cradling her in his arms, curving his body against hers, he felt – well, he felt happy. Content. He lay a kiss to her hair, and smiled when she snuggled in closer. _I love you_, she had said sincerely.

She was his, Damon thought with a slight feeling of unease – knowing he would wake up to be a threat that wanted to tear her throat apart. She was his, and now, suddenly, he was scared that she shouldn't be: scared that he would break her, that he didn't deserve her. Wrapping his arms tightly around his purring witch, Damon let out a shaky sigh and pushed thoughts of tomorrow from his mind.

This moment was his. He was beloved, and he was certain of it. He was beloved, and he knew it wasn't the spell talking – he felt her emotions as easily as he felt his own. He was beloved and he didn't know how long it would last, so he stopped thinking of the future and the past, and thought only of the beauty in his arms and her sweet gift of words.

_My wildest dreaming could not foresee lying beside you – with you wanting me._


	16. im yours

**AN: Here's a longer chapter to apologize for the wait. The story is almost done (ahh!). I want to say sincerely, THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed, favorited or added an alert – I really appreciate it and it makes me want to write more and more and more. Thank you! I hope you like this one, too!**

_Nothing's gonna stop us but divine intervention_

Bonnie walked into the Grille on a hot Friday afternoon with her hair pinned artfully to cascade down one shoulder and not stray. When Matt paused to say hello and ask if she had worked things out with Damon, Bonnie struggled to keep from smiling and offered a faux-nonchalant shrug instead. She settled into a booth with a soda and her notebook to detail the effects of the spell as she remembered them – trying to sort out what was her, what was Damon, and what was truly magic. But when she began to write, her hand shook so badly her letters were illegible. When she raised her glass to her lips, the ice clinked together as if she were shaking. At first, she thought it was an earthquake.

But when the blonde vampire rushed to her side from the pool table and their eyes met, Bonnie knew it was no earth quake. It was a trembling all over that was jostling her surroundings – making her leg tap involuntarily against the ground – that only someone with super hearing could hear.

"Bonnie, are you alright?" Caroline asked. Her concerned eyes were the last thing Bonnie saw before she slumped into the booth and blacked out.

**BDBDBDBDBD**

"She loves me," Damon thought, sitting idly on his bed. He had the last of the vervaine-wolf's bane flowers in hand, and was holding it very delicately with the sleeves of his black dress shirt pulled over his fingers. He pulled a petal off and watched it fall to the floor. "She loves me," he thought again, not bothering to add the _not_, knowing with a tight certainty that it was true.

It was a weird feeling, feeling someone else's love for you – weird, uncomplicated, non-narcisisstic and unselfish love. Bonnie didn't want attention. In fact, she had only called him once since she woke up in that bed alone with a crow in her room where Damon should be. She had arched an eyebrow and opened the window to let it out. And when she called, it had been the simple, curt conversation they had had in the past: all business, all about the spell. Never about them – she _never_ pressed the issue of them.

"It was nice talking to you," she had ended their chat before he was ready.

He could hear her rolling her eyes on the other end when he said, "Call me soon."

"No promises," she had said simply and hung up before he could respond. No promises, no future dates or commitments – and yet he didn't doubt for a second what she felt for him.

And then it hit him: Damon let the flower fall to the floor with the sudden realization. Of course she didn't press the question. She _knew_, just like he knew. She knew what he was feeling without him having to say a word. Which could be relieving – so very, very relieving – except Damon didn't have the slightest clue what he was feeling.

"Are you going to stay in here all week?" Stefan asked from his position leaning in the doorway, arms crossed in front of him. "You know you're not trapped in a tomb anymore, right?"

"With your presence, brother," Damon rolled his eyes dramatically, "I wish I was."

"When's the last time you heard from Bonnie?" Stefan asked, his voice verging on accusation.

Damon's eyes widened as he shifted his gaze to pin his brother, "Didn't you see her in school yesterday?"

"I didn't ask when the last time was that _I_ saw her," Stefan said. "I've seen her every day this week." When Damon said nothing, Stefan continued: "She's been hiding the side of her neck. She knows I've been looking."

"Does Elena know how concerned you are about my little witch?" Damon tried to change the subject.

"Did you bite her, Damon?" Stefan frowned.

"Not in the way you're thinking," Damon offered a devilish smirk. The image of Bonnie's neck bent under his lips sent a thrill through him that tinged his laugh lines black. "Although..."

"We need to talk about this spell," Stefan said ominously. Damon took that as his cue to leave the room at lightning speed and pour himself a drink in the living room. When he turned around, Stefan and all his brooding intensity remained.

"Spell?" Damon feigned innocence.

"Summoning spells have side effects," Stefan began like a university lecturer.

"Oh, I know," Damon smirked, taking a sip of his liquor. Lust. Desire. Love? Damon drawled his words slowly for effect: "Trust me, we've explored every last one of them."

Stefan tried to keep the impatience from his face, but the tick at his left eye brow only made Damon's smirk widen. "I'm serious. I've been looking into it since I found out."

"As had I," Damon scoffed loudly, waving his arms around in an exaggerated gesture. He almost spilled alcohol on the carpet. The ways conversations with Stefan cost him. "You're not the only one who can compel historians."

"And what did you find out?" Stefan challenged. He crossed his arms more tightly and set his jaw in an unforgiving clench.

"Emily's little secret." Damon sang out like a taunt. "Emily was trying to summon me to save her from being burnt alive. She left it in the grimoire for her line to use in case they needed their protector. But I didn't save Emily. And no one has ever called me with it." With a smirk, he added, "Guess my witch is stronger than we thought."

"You know." Stefan lowered his voice, as if someone could hear them. "Have you told Bonnie?"

"Why would I?" Damon said.

"She thinks she's summoning her grandmother," Stefan said, as if explaining why it's wrong to track mud in the house to a four year old. "She doesn't know the spell was made for you."

"Correction – she thinks it was made for Katherine and would work on her decaying Grams." Damon loved muddy boots on a clean tiled floor. "Besides," he added when he saw Stefan take a deep, steadying breath, "She focused all her attentions on me long ago."

"You can't be this selfish." Stefan accused with a small shake of his head.

"Selfish?" Damon bit his tongue from making a remark about the ways in which Bonnie would find his interest in her quite selfless indeed and added instead: "Me?"

"Even Elena would never forgive you for this." Stefan finally uncrossed his arms and crossed the room again. Damon made a show of his annoyance by taking the seat on the couch as if he were humouring his brother.

"I stopped caring what _Elena_ thought ages ago," Damon rolled his eyes.

"That's what I thought," Stefan said. "Now I'm thinking this is some sick way of getting her attention." When Damon took a swig of his drink before clenching his teeth, Stefan added: "There's no coming back to her after this."

"I compelled and slept with vampire Barbie," Damon muttered, "This hardly beats that."

"Killing Bonnie?" Stefan snapped. "That's how little you value her life? After all she's done for you?"

"What?" Damon said, turning to his brother.

"She should have left you in the tomb," Stefan frowned. "When she said she'd trapped you there she was a crying mess, you know that? She sat in that living room pouring over her grimoire for hours even after we'd gotten back. I tried to get her to stay here but she insisted on staying home. Alone." Stefan pinned Damon's gaze to his. "I didn't even ask her to get you out. Not once. Because I _knew_ what you were doing to her."

"You were hoping I'd stay trapped," Damon accused, his eyes flaring. He closed his fist and the glass in his hand smashed into shards effortlessly.

"Yes." Stefan said without missing a beat. "I wish she had never summoned you."

Damon flashed before him, and in seconds Stefan found his back pinned against a wall with Damon's hands at his throat. "Jealous, little brother?" Damon's face was twisted with rage, his eyes wide and black. "Wish it was you with your humanity back again?"

"Humanity?" Stefan laughed sadly. "How far gone are you that you think _this_ is human? _This _is your idea of compassion?"

Damon shoved him against the wall harder and Stefan didn't bother to resist – which only angered him more. He growled, "Stay out of it!"

"Why?" Stefan spat. "Why are you doing this to her?"

"I'm not _doing_ anything to her," Damon said, releasing his grip and letting his brother's feet hit the ground. He took a step back and struggled to control his anger before saying, "She likes having me around."

"I know." Stefan said.

"No," Damon corrected, meeting Stefan's eyes. "She _loves_ it. She loves me."

Stefan said like he was spitting out something distasteful: "You don't deserve her."

"And you do?" Damon accused. "You hardly 'deserve' Elena, let alone Bonnie."

Stefan sighed, and kept his voice steady and calm when he said, "No one deserves to be loved by someone they are trying to destroy."

"I'm not trying to destroy her," Damon balked at the suggestion. _Anymore_, he added mentally.

"You think your faux-humanity is worth more than her life."

"I never said that." Damon frowned.

"You're making her summon you." Stefan said.

"I'm not," Damon shook his head. "She wants me to come to her." He raised his eyes to meet Stefan's, that devilish, victorious smirk appearing again: "She wants me to fuck her."

"Not at this cost." Stefan shook his head. "She doesn't understand the risks, and you do. She doesn't know what she's giving up. You're taking advantage of her feelings for you."

"What are you talking about?" Damon was truly baffled. "You have officially succeeded in confusing me with your angsty melodrama. It's just sex, Stefan."

"Sex?" Stefan frowned, "Damon, are you telling me you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Damon said, his eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher meaning from the way Stefan's forehead creased.

"Elena and I paid a visit to a witch I knew from the '40s," Stefan explained slowly, "I asked her about summoning spells. They're not like making a phone call," he paused to make sure his brother was listening and noted the way Damon's fingers curled into fists, "More like making a trade."

"A trade." Damon repeated, but his eyes were still empty.

"Your life," Stefan said, "For hers."

Damon was about to respond – his mouth was open and he was willing words (rude, but still words) to rush out – when the door was thrown up and in a blur a lifeless Bonnie Bennett was dropped into his hands.

**BDBDBDBDBD**

"I don't know what happened," Caroline said, pacing the living room. Damon was sitting on the couch with Bonnie in his arms. His forehead was creased in thought as he carefully smoothed her hair from out of her face. "She was at the Grille all glow-y and happy and then she just..." she turned to Stefan with a contorted look of worry and distress, "collapsed."

Stefan put a hand on Caroline's arm to calm her, "It's strange, I know."

"I thought maybe something was in her drink? But it was fine. Matt poured it for her. Then I thought, maybe I should take her to the hospital when she didn't come around immediately. But I still heard her heart and then I thought..." Caroline trailed off as she turned to gaze pleadingly at Damon, "You fixed her last time; can't you just fix her again?"

"Last time," Damon began, fighting the tight sensation at his chest. He passed his hand over Bonnie's forehead, but her face was still blank and dull. She wasn't glowing – there was no spark or hum of light. Her forehead wasn't twisted in judgement or pain, and she didn't have that cute little smile that she had when she fell asleep in his arms only days ago. "Last time it was the spell."

"This time it's the spell." Stefan said, seriously. His expression didn't change as two pairs of eyes snapped up to meet him.

"Then he can fix it." Caroline said, extending an arm in his direction.

Stefan didn't respond.

"She needs to rest." Damon said. He scooped Bonnie up into his arms, and frowned as her pliant body fell easily against his. There was no struggle. No tension. No pleasing arch of back.

"W-what do you mean?" Caroline started to sniffle. She was still talking to Stefan, but her voice was aimed at Damon. "What did he do to her?"

"Nothing," both brothers said at the same time although Stefan's voice was infinitely more patient and understanding. Stefan continued, "Damon's right. She needs to rest and recover from the spell. She cast a big one to get him out of the tomb."

"Will she be alright?" Caroline asked, biting her finger nails as Damon turned to leave the room. He was heading for his bedroom, but Caroline kept a distrusting ear out for him.

"She just needs to rest," Stefan nodded. But his repetition was worrisome – like he was trying to convince himself.

"I'm calling Elena." Caroline announced, plopping down on the couch. "She should have left him in the tomb."

Damon sped to his room with a heavy, sinking feeling at his chest. He didn't disagree.

**BDBDBDBDBDBD**

_Look into your heart and you'll find love_

In her dreams, Bonnie wore a strapless white dress that hit her ankles. Her hair was pinned to one side and decorated with cascading flowers. She was sitting on a swing set that rocked up and down with the rhythm of her lover's steady gait. Behind her was familiar, delicate laughter. She turned around with a surprised smile.

"Grams!"

"Bonnie," Sheila smiled, pushing Bonnie lightly as she swung back into the sky.

"Grams," Bonnie's eye lit up with realization. "I've summoned you!"

"Oh, no, dear," Sheila shook her head, a loving smile making her serious expression lighter somehow. Bonnie felt the swing come to a stop and stood up. She turned to face her Grams and the swing between them disappeared – burst into an explosion of orange butterflies. One landed on her left hand like a ring and wouldn't leave – even when she reached out for an embrace.

When Bonnie pulled away, her Grams looked younger. Her skin was smooth and her hair was a lovely dark black, pinned back from her face with the same white flowers.

"I didn't summon you?" Bonnie frowned.

"You can't summon what is already with you," Sheila smiled, tapping Bonnie's heart. Her grand daughter smiled and her eyes lit up with tears.

"Am I dreaming you?"

"No, dear," Sheila shook her head again. She took Bonnie's hand and led her through a field of flowers. They burst into blooms as they walked past. "There is much you have yet to understand."

"Where are we?" Bonnie asked when they stopped walking. She could see a tree in the distance.

"We are at a half-way place," Sheila said, taking a seat in the meadow with Bonnie. "This is where you can reach the spirits of those who you've loved – who have passed on."

"This is," Bonnie began, stumbling over words as she felt her eyes fill with tears. "Am I dead?"

"Dying," Sheila corrected with a smile. She whispered, "But that's beside the point."

"I've been here before," Bonnie said, more a realization than a question. "But you weren't here."

"When you really need me, you'll find me." Sheila said, "So, stop searching for me, child."

"No," Bonnie shook her head, feeling her eyes sting with fresh tears. "There must be a way. I need to see you in my world."

"Summoning spells have costs," Sheila shook her head disapprovingly.

"I'll pay it," Bonnie said.

"Bonnie," Sheila said softly, taking her granddaughter's hand in her own. Bonnie was surprised by how young and soft it looked, "You are paying with your life."

"I'll pay it!" Bonnie exclaimed, crying freely now as she clutched Sheila's hands. "I need you."

"You don't need me." Sheila laughed, and her voice rang out like a long forgotten melody.

"I'm lonely," Bonnie admitted.

"Are you?" Sheila asked, arching an eyebrow. For a moment, Bonnie wondered if Damon had at one point taught her that.

"I need help with my magic," Bonnie tried. "I'm lost without you."

"Are you?" Sheila asked again. When Bonnie choked back a sob, Sheila extended a comforting hand. "Bennetts are connected, Bonnie. You will find your way back here when you need to reach it. In your time of need, I will always find my way back to you."

"Can't the spell do this?" Bonnie asked, "Can't it bring me to you?"

"In a manner of speaking," Sheila said with a teasing twinkle in her eye. "But not in the way you want."

"I don't care," Bonnie exclaimed, throwing her arms around her. "I'll use it to come back to you."

"If you come back, you may not return."

"You mean, I might die," Bonnie said quickly as she pulled away, "Spells have exhausted me before. They've given me nosebleeds – I've passed out. It's alright; I'll risk it to find you."

"You are young, Bonnie," Sheila said, her forehead creasing in concern. Bonnie wondered if Stefan taught her that. "You have yet to understand the balance of nature." When she said nothing, Sheila continued: "The question is not finding me. There are traces of me in your heart. I am always right here," Again, she tapped Bonnie's chest, "You can't extract me from here; you can't bring me back to life."

When Bonnie tried to interrupt, Sheila shot her a silencing look. "The question is not how to find me, child. The question is how to access me. And that is a different sort of spell entirely."

"Then how?" Bonnie cried, "Just tell me how."

"Dream me up," Sheila said. "All of my wisdom and my heart is with you. Stop looking outside yourself when I'm right here."

"Is this a dream?" Bonnie demanded, wiping furiously at her face.

"Very much like," Sheila smiled sadly. "A dream that you will wake from – you _must_, Bonnie. Promise me."

Suddenly, the image of Sheila flickered before her eyes. "I'll find a way back," Bonnie promised.

"No," Sheila shook her head and her face became suddenly serious. "Promise me you'll wake."

"I will," Bonnie said.

"Promise me you won't find me again like this," Sheila said, "No more summoning the dead."

"No more," Bonnie said, feeling a tight knot twisting at the pit of her stomach. _No more Damon_. She blinked back tears at the thought – and at the idea that she would have to tell him, that she would have to break his heart by telling him that once again, his humanity was lost forever.

When she opened her eyes, Sheila was gone. The sky had darkened – a heavy blanket of grey clouds was descending ominously to the Earth until all of it was engulfed in smog and smoke. Bonnie coughed and wiped tears from her eyes to clear her vision. _The tree_, she thought. _I must get to the tree._

She stood and pulled at her dress to make movement easier. She could barely see two feet in front of her, but for some reason that tree was a clear silhouette in the greyness. She saw it clearly as she approached, as the grass turned to bare soil beneath her toes. Bonnie looked down to dodge the occasional rock and felt the sky burst into rain. It was like heavy sheets of water hitting the ground, and she pulled at her white dress to keep it from scraping the earth. When she finally looked up, the tree was mere feet before her.

And leaning against it, was a vampire.

**BDBDBDBD**

Damon had entered Bonnie's dream to feel her sensation of being bereft – of being deprived of or losing something. He saw the sky turn grey and burst into rain. He leaned against the tree and waited, trying to decide in which direction he should move to find her. _To the tree, Bonnie_, he thought – _come to me_.

And she appeared from the mist like a beautiful apparition.

Petals clung to her hair as flowers were washed from it to fall to the ground. Her hair was heavy with water – it lung to her face, and she had pulled it to one side as she walked. In her other hand was the skirt of her white dress – she was trying to keep it from the mud and failing as an inch of dirt crept up the edges. The fabric was sheer against her body; even under the moody sky, he could make out the curves and angles he had become so familiar with. Except, instead of butterflies and thrills racing through him, he felt a heavy, tight ache in his chest. He felt protective.

"Damon!" Bonnie exclaimed over the noise of the rushing rain.

"Bonnie," Damon began with that tortured look in his eyes. His face was contorted with some unknown pain, and she felt a rushing urge welling up in her chest to touch him. His eyes darkened and rage made the corners of his eyes darken with black lines. Bonnie flew into his arms.

Damon stood statue still when she wrapped her arms around him. He forced himself to be gentle as he let his arms fall closed around her, but when she sighed happily into the nape of his neck, he tightened his grip on her and pulled her as close as he could.

"Damon," Bonnie said again, and he closed his eyes at the feeling of her lips and breath against his throat. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm dreaming with you," Damon said simply as he ran his hands up and down her back as if memorizing the dip of her body from shoulders to waist and the flare back out into hips. He let her go to stare into her green eyes, tipping her chin up with one hand. "Beautiful."

Bonnie shuddered at the word and felt heat rush to her face. "You've said that before."

"You've been beautiful before," Damon shrugged.

Bonnie narrowed her eyes at him as she reached out to smooth the lines at his eyes. On her tip toes, she leaned up to press a kiss to his temple. "Are you alright?"

"I am," Damon said. He scanned her eyes with his, and felt for the millionth time tethered to her vision. There was something magnetic about her – even here, even where spells and incantations and compulsions didn't work. "Are you?"

"I think... I'm dying," Bonnie said, her voice sincere with simple concern. She wasn't panicking or pleading or afraid.

"I won't let that happen," Damon said resolutely, passing his thumb over the curve of her bottom lip as she burst into a playful smile.

"No, you won't," Bonnie teased. "Or else you'd have to summon me."

"Don't do that anymore," Damon said sternly. "Don't call me."

"Why not?" Bonnie asked cautiously.

"It's killing you," Damon said. His eyes widened and narrowed – there it was, that maniacal Damon look that once enraged her and now unleashed a flurry of excited butterflies in her stomach.

"Spells have tired me out before," Bonnie began, but he interrupted - "It's a trade. You're giving me your life, Bonnie."

"What do you mean?" Bonnie asked, her smile falling as she remembered Sheila's warning. This was more than overexertion! What a price, indeed.

"I'm being summoned with your life," Damon explained with shame. A few months ago, he wouldn't think twice about the witch dying for his benefit. But now – not her living _was_ his benefit, and anything else wasn't worth considering. "Every time you summon me, you're trading bits of your life for mine. Who knows what you've given up already? Years? Decades?"

He studied Bonnie carefully for her reaction. At first, she was still and unmoving, like she was absorbing the information as an observer and not a victim. He expected her to judge him – was waiting for the jury to make their decision – when she smiled instead.

"You're alive," Bonnie laughed, "With _me."_

Damon's forehead creased more. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" She was laughing hysterically – a very strange melody over the rush of water and wind around them. Her whole face lit up with amusement – her green eyes sparked, and her cheeks pinked with color. Rain drops trembled from her forehead down her temple to fall from her chin as she shook with laughter.

"That's why," Bonnie said with delight, "I feel what you feel and you feel what I feel: my life _is_ your life."

"This is not supposed to make you happy." Damon frowned.

"That's why I had the occasion Damon-douchebag-moment." Bonnie concluded, tapping a finger to her lips teasingly. Inwardly, she cringed at the thought of how her judgmental nature must have worsened his guilt and remorse but said nothing.

Bonnie was looking at him with studious, compassionate eyes that made Damon uncomfortable. He shifted under the weight of her gaze. "Will you stop with the stupid spell already?"

Bonnie interrupted with a frown, "Does that make me narcissistic? That I find you attractive?" Damon opened his mouth to respond, but Bonnie silenced him with a finger to his lips: "Nevermind, of course it does. I'm getting your traits after all, it only makes sense I'd be narcissistic."

"I'm going to pretend you stopped at finding me attractive," Damon said, his lips twisted into a snarl.

"Don't make me make you give me my life back," Bonnie teased, poking him in the chest.

"You should be more worried about this," Damon said, biting back a smile at her contagious glee.

"You're with me?" Bonnie asked, grabbing his hand and twining her fingers with his. She waited until he nodded, "You're with me, so nothing will happen to me. I'll wake up from this dream, and everything will be okay."

"And you'll never summon me again," Damon insisted. He couldn't be responsible for this. Forget Elena's forgiveness – if something happened to Bonnie because of him and his selfish nostalgia, he'd never forgive himself. The weight of that remorse he'd felt the first time he found himself pulled towards her, pained and hurting, would be so multiplied he couldn't survive it.

"Never." Bonnie promised. _Who needs to summon what's already here?_

"Bonnie..." Damon said as she raised his hand to her lips. "This is serious."

She kissed each finger before opening his palm and planting an open mouthed kiss there. "Since when are you more serious than I am?" She arched a challenging eyebrow and elicited a bemused smirk from his lips.

"You're dying," Damon said. "Now's the time to be serious."

"I'm just dreaming," Bonnie insisted, feeling a sense of panic at the cast of Damon's eyes. He was too silent – too still. He stood like this, spoke like this, gazed like this often when he was keeping something from someone (usually Elena). When he was lying. When he was trying to protect from something awful. "I'm just dreaming, right?"

Her voice cracked with fear and she dropped his hand. Damon took a deep breath and averted his eyes. "It's been two days since you collapsed."

"Two days?" Bonnie yelled. "It's been minutes!"

"Days, Bonnie," Damon's eyes pinned hers now. He kept them deliberately hard and emotionless as her started to shimmer with tears.

"But I'll wake up soon, right?" She demanded. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

"You've been getting worse." Damon said. "That's why I came."

"To bring me back?" Bonnie urged.

"To keep you company." Damon said, and she let out a mourning sob. She reached out and pounded against his chest and he let her. He averted his eyes, tried to ignore the way the rain made her smell delicious – tried to forget how long it had been since he had had any contact with her – and remembered that he was just the asshole who was killing her.

"I don't understand," Bonnie sobbed, refusing to meet his eyes. "Why am I getting worse? The spell is over?"

"I think," Damon paused to let out a heavy breath, "I think we crossed a line."

"No kidding," Bonnie huffed out in frustration. She punctuated her words with another thump of her fist against his chest.

"I'm getting stronger," Damon admitted. "It's like I'm sucking the life out of you and I don't know how to stop it."

"Well, figure it out!" Bonnie snapped. "I don't want to die, Damon." She raised her eyes to meet his, and they were flashing with that defiant green light: "I have a life and I've barely started living."

"I have a plan," Damon said, catching her fists against his chest in one hand. He pulled down sharply and brought her flush against his body. Her chest was heaving with anger – he could almost feel the heated electricity sparking off of her.

"What is it?" Bonnie asked, refusing to look away. This was the Damon she knew – the Damon she should never have forgotten simply because his eyes were _so_ blue, and his smile was _so_ bright and such a secret between the two: the scheming, menacing Damon who somehow always ended up on top with a young, bright girl dying in his wake.

"Feed," Damon said. He raised his wrist to his teeth and snapped his skin open. He looked at Bonnie with those hard, challenging eyes and brought it to her lips.

"No," she said, shaking her head and pushing away, "I don't want to be like you."

Damon blinked, and she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. He clenched his teeth and shoved his wrist in her face again. "You won't be. Just do this."

"I don't want to be a vampire," Bonnie clarified.

"You won't!" Damon snarled. "You gave me your life when you let me taste your blood, and now I'm giving it back. Just take it, before I change my mind."

A tear fell down Bonnie's cheek, but her gaze was still unpitying and hard. Her lip trembled, and he heard her take in a sharp breath. With the hand holding her wrists, he raised her hands against his chest and pressed them there.

"Your heart," Bonnie gasped, her lashes fluttering up to meet his eyes.

"It's beating," Damon confirmed. "In these dreams at least, I feel human again."

"Then why are you giving it up?" Bonnie challenged. "How do I know you're not trying to vamp me out so you can be the human?"

Damon laughed and released her, but she didn't retreat. "Trust me."

"Why should I?" Bonnie spat. Damon smiled at her then. He reached out and wiped the tears from her eyes, trailed the back of his fingers against her face. Bonnie leaned into his touch, let him rub the pad of his thumb against her cheek bones and slide it against her lips.

"You already do," Damon said softly. He watched as she nodded, but said nothing. Her eyes softened, her whole face stopped being sharp with defensive accusation and warmed to sad resignation.

Damon cradled the back of her head in his palm like he was going to kiss her and moved his wrist to her lips. The moment was strange and heavy: the wind and rain whipped up around them. Bonnie braced herself for the metallic taste of his blood and Damon was touched by her sweet innocence. He had hungered for Katherine's blood – and her power – out of what he had mistaken for love. Now that he was in Katherine's place, he felt he had to say something to reassure her.

"You love me," he said, hating the way it sounded, wishing he could have said something more meaningful. But it seemed that was all it took for Bonnie to lap gently at his blood. When she stopped, he moved his wrist away and stared at her. She was beautiful, even in her sadness – her lips tinged with his blood.

Damon pulled Bonnie towards him and licked his blood from her lips with a long, sweet kiss.

"I'm glad you're here," Bonnie admitted when he pulled away. Her hands clutched his shirt, keeping her soaked body pressed against his.

Damon dropped his arms to wrap around her, "I know."

"Oh, you know?" Bonnie laughed, trying to pull out of his embrace but he kept her anchored to him. She arched an eyebrow at him when he smirked, "You can't even _dream_ without me."

"Well, it is _my_ dream," Bonnie said, tugging at his hair at his nape. She splayed her fingers against his chest, enjoying the sensation of his heart beating.

"So?" Damon muttered, distracted with the curve of her neck. He bent down to kiss her pulse.

"Therefore," Bonnie continued, "You should do what I say."

"Okay," Damon smiled against her skin as he trailed kisses to her ear lobe. After a quick nibble, he breathed into her air, "What would you like, Miss Bennett?"

Bonnie shivered against Damon's voice on her skin – though if he noticed, she would blame it on the rain. "You just keep doing what you're doing. I'll tell you when to stop."

So, Damon kept kissing her. He kissed her until her eyes closed and her lips curved with happy pleasure. He kissed her until her body bent to his – he lay her in the earth, under the tree, and kissed her senseless as the rain fell around them. He nipped at her neck, as if begging for a taste – but she brushed him off with a nervous laugh.

"Damon," she interrupted as he hovered above her, his eyes tearing away from the curve of her breasts. She cradled his face, riddled with lusty, black lines, as she spoke softly, "What if it doesn't work?"

"We can just stay here," Damon said, his forehead creased with pleading. "We can just stay here and never leave."

"I can't do that," Bonnie said, shaking her head. "What about my father and my friends?"

"This is your world, Bonnie," Damon said, kissing her chin, "You can dream them up if you'd like." He paused and smirked, "Just don't dream up daddy right now. Elena or Caroline _maybe_."

Bonnie swatted him playfully. "But that's not real."

"It's better than real," Damon said, returning his attention to her body as he pulled at her dress. Everywhere his hands touched, Bonnie felt herself light up with heat. "No one can hurt you."

"Except you," Bonnie reminded him.

"Except me," Damon admitted, half-listening.

"What about Stefan?" Bonnie asked and Damon rolled off of her with an exasperated sigh.

"I don't share well, so don't go imagining him right now either," Damon frowned.

Bonnie laughed and leaned over him. It was her turn to trail kisses down his neck. He pulled her on top of him, settled her warmth against him and held her in place with his hands firmly at her hips. "Won't you miss seeing the people you know that I don't?"

"I don't miss people," Damon said, raising his eyes to stare at her face. His eyes darted across her features as if he was trying to memorize what she looked like here – tousled in the rain, eyes wet and shining from crying, face flushed and lips bright with his kisses.

"You do," Bonnie insisted.

"I would do it," Damon said, running a hand up her hip to the dip of her waist. "To be with you."

"Are you saying we should run away together?" Bonnie teased.

"I'm saying," Damon growled, shifting his weight and sitting up so she was spread across his lap. He grabbed the small of her back and pulled her flush against him, "That we already have." When she opened her mouth to speak, Damon tugged her chin forward and kissed her.

"Shut up," he said against her lips, "And enjoy your dream."

"Make me," Bonnie teased, cinching her legs around his waist and threading her fingers through his hair.

And he did.

They made love until the rain stopped. The sun came out, and they went for a walk in the flowers. They lay on their backs in the field, holding hands and counting clouds. At dusk, they made love again by a waterfall Bonnie dreamed up – that she'd seen in some geography magazine. The rushing water was the perfect soundtrack to Damon's hot breath against her neck, and the scratching of Bonnie's nails against his back. They swam naked until the sun set, splashing water at each other as Damon promised to take her to a real waterfall one day.

The stars came out, and they watched them shoot across the sky. Damon wrapped Bonnie in his arms, pulling her back flat against his chest and finding the nook of her knees with his own. It had been another two days, he knew. He could feel himself getting weaker – could feel his heart beat dulling, and hoped she didn't notice. It was working.

"Don't leave," Bonnie whispered.

"I'll stay," Damon nodded against her skin.

"Forever, okay?" Bonnie said, blinking back the tears and steadying her emotions with a deep breath. Damon's arms tightened around her.

"Forever," he agreed. "As long as you're here, I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want to be without you," Bonnie said. Damon kissed her forehead in response. That familiar tightening was back at the center of his chest. She reached out and pulled his hand against her, stretched his fingers over the center of her heart beat.

"Little witch," Damon whispered against her neck as he clutched her closely to him. He traced circles on her skin with his fingers and lay a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. He nipped lightly at her skin and paused to inhale the scent of her blood.

"Yes?" Bonnie asked on a yawn, snuggling closer into Damon's form. His body was warm in her dreams – and human, and solid and safe. Safe. What a strange word to associate with a psychotic murderer, but that's how she felt.

"Tell me," he said softly, trailing kisses up her neck to pause at her ear. He nipped at her earlobe impatiently.

Instinctively, she knew what he craved: "I love you." She almost heard the smile that spread across his lips. He settled in to sleep behind her, and Bonnie felt the weight of her exhaustion settle in on her bones. Somehow she knew that when she closed her eyes and drifted off it would be to the waking world – she would no longer be in this half way place, this haven from life.

But she let it take over, anyway. It was time to return, she knew. Who knew how long her life-sharing body could survive while she was off frolicking in this unreal world? Just as she drifted on the verge of sleep and waking, she heard him call to her.

Like a candle through a fog, she heard his voice. She heard his voice around garbled words and instantly recognized his feelings. Without hearing the syllables, she translated the message and it sent a jolt down her spine that she would remember forever.

"Bonnie," Damon spoke into her skin, "I'm yours."

**BDBDBDBDBDBD**

"Damon!" Bonnie exclaimed, shooting up from the bed. Beads of sweat covered her body, and she trembled at the touch of cold air against her skin. She was not wrapped up in Damon's shirt, but in a pair of Elena's cotton pyjamas. She wasn't sharing her warmth with a blue eyed devil, but was staring back at two tired, confused friends who had fallen asleep in chairs at her bedside.

"Bonnie!" Caroline exclaimed, jumping up to wrap her arms around her friend. "We were so worried about you."

"I'm so glad you're okay," Elena agreed, climbing more carefully onto the bed with her friend. "How are you feeling?"

Bonnie smiled at them. "Honestly, I feel great." Besides that ominous feeling in her heart. Without thinking, she reached up to brush her fingers against her throat.

"If you're trying to hide the hickeys still," Caroline rolled her eyes teasingly, "I think we're a little past that."

Bonnie blushed. "I don't know what you mean."

"Shut up," Caroline said, hugging her friend again, "You just woke up calling his name."

"What!" Bonnie said, biting the inside of her cheek at the sound of her own shrill voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Who?"

"He'd been with you all weekend," Elena said, meeting Bonnie's eyes seriously.

"He wouldn't even let _us_ in the room," Caroline frowned. "I was worried what he might do."

"He wouldn't let anything happen to me," Bonnie offered a soft smile.

"That's what I was worried about!" Caroline exclaimed, "A witch vampire? Could you imagine!"

Bonnie's eyes widened, "He didn't..."

"He fed you his blood before he left," Elena admitted. "He thought it would help."

Bonnie opened her mouth to ask the obvious question but she stopped herself when she saw the uncertain look her friends exchanged. "Where is he?"

"He's gone, Bon," Elena admitted after a few more nervous seconds. "He left like, a week ago?"

"Gone where?" Bonnie asked, her rapidly blinking eyelashes betraying the panic she felt rising in her chest. _I'm yours_, he had said.

"Don't know," Caroline said dismissively, although she offered Bonnie a sympathetic look.

"When is he coming back?" Bonnie said, turning to Elena now. Again, the uncertainty.

"I'm not sure," Elena began hesitantly.

"He's not coming back." Stefan's voice sounded from the doorway. He stood in the door frame with his arms crossed, looking tired and overwhelmed. "He's not coming back, Bon."

"What?" Bonnie said, pushing the sheets off of her. "He wouldn't just _leave_."

"He did," Elena confirmed, putting a hand on Bonnie's wrist to still her.

"He doesn't care about anyone," Caroline reminded Bonnie. "This just proves it."

"You've been getting better since he left," Elena admitted quietly.

"Obviously!" Caroline snapped at her friend, "It's his fault she was like this. I'm surprised he was even decent enough to do that." She turned to Bonnie with a sad smile, "I'm sorry, Bon, but I can't stand the thought of someone hurting you."

"Neither can I," Elena chirped in. "I want you to be happy."

"Did he even leave me a message? A note?" Bonnie asked. She felt the tears rising behind her eyes but refused to let them fall. _I'm not going anywhere_, he had said: _As long as you're here._ Did he only exist in her dreams? Like her Grams now, would she never find him in the waking world? Traces of Damon. Was that it? All she had left? Traces in her heart, but not the real thing.

"He did." Stefan said, taking a steadying breath. He approached the bed and rested a hand on her shoulder. "He said not to look for him and not to call him."

Bonnie opened her mouth to respond but quickly shut it when she saw Stefan and Elena exchange a glance. "He said to tell you that," Stefan hesitated, "He doesn't love you."

Bonnie's heart dropped.

"And he never did," Elena added, casting her eyes away. She reached out for Bonnie's hand and squeezed.

"You don't love him, Bonnie," Caroline began, rattling off the many reasons why Bonnie Bennett was way above noticing a psychotic, homicidal, narcissistic ancient maniac.

But Bonnie couldn't hear them: she could only hear the sound of the rain rushing to fill her ears, the sound of the earth as it shifted under their weight, and the scrape of her teeth across his flesh – the sounds of her half-life with Damon.

Bonnie heard it every night in her dreams. Every night that she slept without Damon beside her; every morning she woke without a crow peering into her window or went to school without a vampire stalking her, Bonnie heard the sound of her breaking heart and it beat with the same rhythm of Damon's gifted, distant pulse.


	17. gave into the call

**AN: This story started with a Sia Song (Hear My Call), and is ending with one (My Love). I'm SO sorry it took so long to update – it has been a really crazy past couple months. Here is the last chapter (with a very short epilogue to follow). Hope it clears up confusion about the spell! Once again, thank you EVERYONE for ALL of your reviews throughout this story, all of your favourites/alerts as well It has meant a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! **

**Gave Into The Call**

_You were searching for release_

The pull was unmistakeable.

He had felt it from across the country dragging him towards her. At first, he thought he imagined it: the melody seeping out of elevator speakers with a weird, piano dinging. A week later, he was reading the newspaper out of sheer boredom when the letters rearranged themselves into a clear, bold as print type message: _Can you hear my call? _He blinked rapidly and thrust the paper from his sight, a strange chill rushing down his spine. Damon refused to look at the headlines again, couldn't risk that what he'd seen had been real.

Then as he tried to pick up dinner at a nearby club – he preferred clubs on the West coast, with their young, hopeful ingénues whose babbling could be drowned out with loud music – her lips started forming the words of the witch's song. She rattled them off like she was telling him her favourite color was pink, her hands waving with exuberant gestures, her eyes glittering with the thrill of talking to the man all the women had their eyes on. But the glittering stopped when his gaze narrowed and his jaw clenched. He slammed his drink on the bar, turned on his heel and left. Still, she called after him, but all he could hear was: _Are you coming to get me now?_

Then there was the gut-wrenching ache. The tickling tinge of missing her, like a guitar string plucked between his lungs, had come sooner than he had expected. He had been away from her for maybe a week when it became too strong to be drowned out with bourbon. So, he had moved on to women. A month later, it was blood: living, fresh, pumping blood. It didn't satisfy or sate, but at least the pulse didn't beat that seductive, erratic rhythm that had his mind rushing with the memory of her sexy smirk.

Four months. She would have graduated by now, he thought absently as he flipped his cell phone repeatedly in his hands. He hadn't changed the number as he had intended. He had gotten too sick a thrill seeing her name light up his caller ID. It had taken her two weeks to stop phoning. A month before the texts stopped altogether. Now he wasn't sure why he kept it, but its recent silence had begun to torment him. When it did ring – usually a wrong number he would compel to do something humiliating as punishment – he could have sworn her heard her voice as the ring tone.

Wind chimes – her tune. The sound of bicycles on the street, little children's feet on the pavement: her rhythm. The rattling of keys in his pocket – her tune. The way the sun rose in the morning after a night spent alone – her smile, tired and beaming, laying in the grass on her back beside him when they had first visited his old family home.

Damon was going crazy, and it was her fault. Damon was losing his mind with missing her, and he refused to admit it – gnashed his teeth at the thought of being so weak. Contemptible.

"_I don't miss people,"_ Damon had told her the last time he saw her, already knowing he would be leaving her behind. Bonnie had insisted: "_You do._"

_Can anybody help?_

Bonnie could.

So, when he felt that tug strong and demanding, he knew exactly where it lead. To the witch's porch. And so, like a predator catching a long awaited scent that meandered under his nose, he went.

**BDBDBDBDBD**

_You taught me honour, you did it for me. Now I am strong, you gave all you had._

Bonnie was different after Damon left. Everyone noticed it. Her teachers noticed her confidence. The boys in school noticed how she strode down the hall without a care in the world, her eyes always set in a seductively determined gaze as if she carried a secret she wouldn't reveal.

"Is it because Damon's gone?" Tyler had wondered aloud, earning a slap to the shoulder from his blonde girlfriend.

"It's because he's coming back," Stefan had bit back a smile.

"What?" Elena had turned to him stunned. "Has he called you? We should tell Bonnie."

"Oh, she knows," Stefan said. And she did. Always had known.

Damon, leave _her?_ Please. She knew that vamp like the back of her hand. _Never_ loved her? Please! He had loved her before she existed – when she was just a twinkle in Emily's eye, he had loved her. She knew it with a certainty that she found so remarkably calming that all the fears and insecurities, the worries and the loneliness, disappeared.

She didn't even need the confirmation that came two weeks after Damon left. Stefan and Elena had found her in high spirits, changing the sheets in Damon's room. The heart break had been replaced with steely determination.

"Bonnie," Elena had said, her forehead creasing with worry. "Are you alright?"

"I'm great," Bonnie had smiled at her friends. "He didn't mean it."

"He didn't," Elena had agreed with a quick nod, like a friend ready to agree with her broken hearted companion's any request. Damon had some feeling for her, even Elena could see that.

"He didn't," Stefan repeated, a smile playing at his lips. He studied Bonnie carefully as she fluffed the pillows and then took her place at the centre of the bed. Like she was home. He arched a questioning eyebrow at her.

"I'm not leaving," Bonnie had stated simply.

"Stay," Stefan had nodded. There was a strange peace between them. Though he had spoken words that had so obviously hurt her only a few days before, she found honesty in his eyes now. He had been asked to deliver a message, and he had.

One evening, about a month after Damon had left, long after Bonnie's tears had been replaced with that wicked smirk and confident gait, Stefan and Elena asked her what they had all been wondering.

"How did you know he was lying?" Elena wondered.

"Come on, Elena. A girl knows when someone," Bonnie hesitated, "_cares_ about her."

"You seem more assured than just _knowing_." Stefan prodded.

Bonnie smiled, her green eyes lighting up with that delicious secret. "If I tell you," Bonnie said, "I get to ask a question in return."

"Of course," Elena nodded, a serious expression on her face. Bonnie couldn't help but feel moved by her friend's dedication. Sure, Elena and Bonnie had different perceptions of life and love and, well, Damon – but at the end of the day, they saw each other the same: as best friends.

"I could feel it." Bonnie confided, "Like they were my own emotions, I could feel it."

"The spell." Stefan frowned.

"Yes," Bonnie continued, "You were right about consequences, Stefan. There were consequences that I'm only just now starting to realize."

"So that means he knows," Elena said, "how you feel about him."

Bonnie's eyes clouded, but only for a moment, "Yes, I suppose it does. Which brings me to my question."

"Why did he lie?" Stefan offered and Bonnie nodded. The air was heavy as she awaited an answer. Elena pressed her hand against Stefan's arm, as if to steady him, and he let out a sigh. "That might be my fault."

"How?" Bonnie asked with more concern in her voice than the accusation he had expected.

"Elena and I had visited a witch a few weeks before, and she had told us that... Damon was drawing his life from yours ." Stefan's brow creased as he forced himself to reveal the rest.

Elena sucked in a tense breath just as she had the first time they had realized. She remembered the moment like it was happening before her – the look on Damon's face, his expression shifting from shock to guilt to raw, uncontrollable anger. He had locked himself in the room with Bonnie all weekend. He had force-fed her his blood until Stefan dragged him away out of fear of Bonnie waking up a vampire, creatures she hated the most. Elena had shuddered at the thought.

"I know," Bonnie said, surprising them, "Damon told me."

"I confronted him just before Caroline brought you here, and he didn't know," Stefan explained, "When you collapsed, we thought you might have been pushed too far. We didn't know how to stop it. After he fed you his blood," Stefan said, "He left. We didn't know if it was his proximity that was causing it, so he left. He gave us the message in the hope that you wouldn't seek him or call him."

"And you mustn't," Elena added hurriedly, her eyes dampening with tears, "He'll come back in his own time, Bonnie, but you can't risk your life for it."

"He left to protect me," Bonnie nodded, as if all the pieces were falling into place. My life was feeding his. That explained her shaking hands: she was giving him the very thing that was keeping her healthy. And he had a pretty dead heart, she joked inwardly, no wonder it took almost her entire life to make it beat again.

"He did." Elena confirmed with an emphatic nod.

"For once, Damon actually saved someone," Bonnie said softly, wiping at her damp lashes as she added silently: _someone he loves. _Her mind raced to recall past moments with him. How she had suddenly made comments about Stefan's brooding forehead or been rude to a friend – she was trading her life with Damon's, and had picked up some of his personality traits along the way. Except, a cold chill hit her with the thought, maybe that was why he saved her – not out of love, not even out of guilt – but out of the Bonnie Bennett judgey do-gooder traits that had sifted over to him. _No_, she insisted stubbornly, _I'm not taking credit for this: this is all Damon._

"Wait, what do you mean he _told_ you?" Stefan asked, his eyes studying the witch intently.

"Oh," Bonnie said, her cheeks feeling heated at the sudden scrutiny, "He came to me, in my dreams. We kind of used to do that sometimes. Dream dates." She tried to sound flippant, but even Elena raised a curious eyebrow at that. "Anyway, he was with me until I awoke."

"If he was there until the end, he must have been dream hopping from far away." Stefan frowned. "That would've been about a week after he left."

"What does that mean?" Bonnie asked.

Stefan met her eyes. "Very strong connection to be able to connect from so far."

Bonnie blushed at that. It made sense; they had mostly been to places that were near and dear to both of them. Places from Damon's past. Corners of Bonnie's heart where her loved ones resided. Except, he hadn't been in her dreams in a long time, and, try as she might, she couldn't jump into his. Was their emotional connection faltering or their distance increasing? Or did he simply want to block her out? It had to just be the distance: otherwise, why would he leave and risk her summoning him if he could keep away from her and still be close? Except, he knew she wouldn't summon him and risk her life. And he wasn't answering her calls.

He was running away from her, that little leech! Bonnie scoffed inwardly at his futile attempt: _run, Damon – see just how far you get before you come crawling back_. Typical guy! Centuries couldn't even change that...

"Dream dates, hmm?" Elena interrupted her thoughts, snapping Bonnie back to the present.

"Do you think it was the blood?" Stefan had mused, more to himself than to the girls who began engaging in long over-due girl talk about Bonnie's strange, dreamy affair with his brother. She hadn't answered him then, but she thought of his question often in the months that followed.

Was it the blood that had made her so certain and confident? Was Damon's devil-may-care attitude pumping through her veins?

Or was it her own heart – that knew the sensation of loving and being loved – that sang out the message:

_You will wait for me, my love._

And she did.

Leather jacket wearing, hip swaying, sexy smirking Bonnie waited for her vampire to return.

**BDBDBDBDBDBD**

_You gave it all, gave into the call_

It was the July 4th weekend when she saw Damon again. Stefan had announced that he was taking Elena away for the weekend, much to everyone's surprise. It was a sudden decision, but the brunette went along with it after a quick glance at Stefan's received texts.

"Off somewhere exciting?" Bonnie had feigned confusion.

"Yes, but," Elena said hurriedly as she slipped her feet into dainty sneakers, "don't feel like you have to go out this weekend. If you want to be by yourself, that's fine. You know, you should rest."

"We'll see," Bonnie said, biting back a smile. Stefan offered her a simple nod that she returned just before the couple took off into the night. It was cute that they thought they could fool her. It was adorable that they thought she was oblivious to his presence. But she kept up the charade – after all, if one text from Damon could make them miss Mystic Falls' July 4th celebrations just for her benefit, then it was the least she could do to seem like she was in for a big surprise.

But how could she be surprised when she felt his presence in the thudding of her traitorous heart. It had been anxious all day. Those butterflies that she thought had died in her stomach from their long, patient wait, were fluttering up higher than ever. They were catching in her throat and beating against her lungs until she felt light headed and weak-kneed. And that was only when he was in the same town. She didn't want to think of what she'd feel when he showed up on the Salvatore porch, or when he found her waiting for him there.

She just retired to his bed and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Around one in the morning, she fell into a fitful sleep until the thudding of her heart and the sweat at her temple woke her up. She flicked her wrists to open the windows and a cool breeze made her sigh and fall back to dreaming.

But two minutes later, she woke up. The breeze had stilled, or maybe it wasn't enough. Under the silk sheets, she pulled her pajama shorts off and kicked them to the ground.

Nothing.

She kicked the thin sheets to the ground and pulled her hair to one side. It was sticking to her neck and she found some relief when the air hit her nape, but _still_ it wasn't enough. Still, she was overcome with heat. It was almost like Damon was here, she thought with a sly smirk.

And then it hit her. Shit. He was.

**BDBDBDBDBD**

The boarding house was empty when Damon arrived, pausing to lean against the doorframe and let out a tired huff of air. He was exhausted from the trip back as he hadn't stopped to feed in three days. Not that he would have stopped if he had been dying of hunger – not when he was on a mission and at the end of that quest was a delicate sorceress with oranges in her veins.

It was July 4th celebrations. There were fireworks bursting in the air, lighting up the night sky, but he didn't pause to consider attending. Bonnie might be there. The thought originally sent a thrill through his chest, but the crushing vice on his heart just got stronger the more he thought of it. She wouldn't want to see him. It squeezed more tightly the closer he got to Mystic Falls. It was like she was punishing him.

It was past one when Damon threw his bedroom door open.

He shrugged his leather jacket as he strode across the room. His shirt was off, and he was kicking the boots off his feet when he paused, and realized. The windows were open. White curtains were fluttering lightly in the night air. He never opened the windows. Then there was his desk – a purse hung off the antique chair, and a pile of text books strewn carelessly across it. He narrowed his eyes, studying the subtle changes in the room. Inhaling deeply, he caught the scent of girly shampoo wafting towards him and scowled. Either Elena had moved in his absence or...

Damon's eyes widened with realization as the crumpled sheets on his bed twisted and jumped up, spilling down one side until barely a corner covered the occupant. A soft, sleepy moan came from the mattress as Damon approached and he felt it in his bones – he knew that sound, that sultry scent. Her leg kicked up again and the rest of the sheets spilled to the floor. The moon peeked through the clouds and cast a sweet ray across her soft, brown skin clad in cotton panties and a large t-shirt that had ridden up to her waist.

He bit his lip in anticipation: what he sought had suddenly appeared before him, like she was a treasure he had simply misplaced. He made a move to approach her, even extended a hand, but the strangest sensation stopped him – _is that what fear felt like_? He had left her, how would she react to seeing him unannounced, exhausted from the trip, showing up to share their bed? Even more: he was hungry – a starved man introduced to the most delectable ambrosia and being told by his long-dead heart not to touch it.

"Damon," Bonnie's sleepy voice hit the air. "You're back."

He blinked at her, and saw her tilt her head as if assessing him. She offered a tentative smile that he returned with a frown. Crossing his arms in front of his chest in a vain attempt to stem the fury of emotions warring inside him, Damon narrowed his eyes at the little witch.

"Bonnie."

"Yes, that's me." Bonnie said, rubbing her eyes and sitting up in bed after a long silence. A firework exploded in the background, lighting the room up with red and orange sparks as it descended to the earth. "You're back," she repeated, sleep leaving her system as a small smirk curved his lips.

"Don't act so surprised," he said, "You called me."

"I called you?" Bonnie laughed. "Puh-lease."

"Yes," Damon frowned. "After I explicitly told you not to."

"I haven't called you in weeks," Bonnie said, "I accidentally on purpose lost your number."

"Stop it," Damon said, his voice louder than he expected. It was strange that his heart didn't feel like it was beating, that he could smell the sweet scent of oranges as she brushed her hair over one shoulder. Her nape beckoned him and he ran a tongue over a fang to sooth the hunger. "You know what I mean."

"I didn't _call_ you, Salvatore," Bonnie scowled, tugging her shirt lower over her form and mimicking his annoyed stance. He blinked, dumb founded, that she was wearing his shirt.

"Then what am I doing here, Bennett?" Damon growled, stalking closer. Bonnie scrambled to stand awkwardly on the bed, holding her ground.

"Interrupting my beauty sleep? Annoying the crap out of me?" She offered, enumerating reasons on her fingers. "Playing hide and seek?"

Damon walked to her side of the bed and she turned to face him. He reached his hand out at lightning speed and tugged on her wrist. Bonnie hit the bed lightly, but found herself staring up into very angry vampy eyes. She forced her expression to remain passive as she said, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

Damon bit down his lip from asking, _Why, is it working?_ – and focused on business instead: "You know what happens when you call me."

"You're irresistibly attracted to me." Bonnie said, a wicked glint in her eye. "Oh, no, wait, that's when you're _around_ me."

"I'm serious," Damon growled.

Arching an eyebrow, she raised herself on her elbows and, as if being questioned by a teacher, droned with faux boredom: "My life for your life, blah blah blah. Human vampire, prematurely aging witch." She furrowed her brow in a pensive pretence: "Where have I heard this story before? Oh, _right_. From Stefan. And Elena. And Caroline. Basically, it's the new theme song of Mystic Falls."

"Then why did you call me, witch?" he asked again, narrowing his eyes like he was assessing her.

"I didn't call you," Bonnie said. He was towering over her, his feet still planted on the ground with his arms splayed on the bed near her head. "Maybe you're just imagining things," she gave him a wicked smile and took the opportunity to hike her hips up and wrap her legs around his waist. "Because you missed me."

"Why are you living in my room?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I wanted to be here when you came back," Bonnie shrugged. "Didn't want any of your other enemies smiting you before I could."

"Were you always this sassy?" Damon asked, a bemused smirk gracing his handsome features. He felt like her gaze was burning him, couldn't deny the heat as her bare legs brushed against his naked chest. A firework erupted behind them.

"I think it's this room," Bonnie said, casting her eyes around it in nonchalant appraisal, "It has this asshole-douchebag-prick air about it." She met his eyes now, "Left over from a previous tenant."

"If you didn't call me," Damon asked, his lids drooping low as they ran across the curves of her face, the parting of her lips and the nook of her chin, "Then why do I feel that _pull_?"

Bonnie smiled as her hands came slowly up to cradle Damon's face. He blinked rapidly at the feeling of her soft hands tracing the lines of his face. She paused to run her thumb over his lips, her eyes focused on his mouth when she said, "Maybe you do miss me."

Damon frowned, but he didn't move her hands away. "This isn't a spell?"

"Not the kind I can cast." Bonnie's voice was low. He barely heard it over the sweet humming of her heart.

"There's something you should know," Damon said. The way his shoulders curved in, the way he forced his eyes to drag up from her lips to meet hers, made her want to tighten her grip on him and pull him into her embrace. To tell him that all was forgiven. That she was still his, that she had waited for him.

"I know," Bonnie interrupted. "You left to protect me."

Damon frowned, "Stefan told you?"

"He didn't have to," Bonnie said, flexing her legs around him. "I know you, Damon."

"That's not what I meant," Damon said, arching an eyebrow, "But now that you mention it, why exactly are you so eager to see me?"

"I missed you," Bonnie said. When he said nothing, she continued. "You're clever and funny and always entertaining. You might not be a saint, but we haven't had to bury any bodies lately so there's that." She forced herself to meet his eyes as she continued, "Besides, you're dead sexy. Like, literally."

"Anyone could have scratched that itch," Damon smirked, moving forward to cover her body with his. She drew in a deep breath at the contact, and he paused – fingers flexing steadily – to adjust to the new sensations unfurling inside him. There were no fireworks outside, but there should have been.

"I love you," Bonnie said, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't let go of people I love that easily."

"No kidding," Damon said – stunned for words. He ignored her confession although he felt the vice on his heart drop away with the heady truth of the admission. His chest felt free suddenly – like he could breath, could pause to find words, could _think_ about something other than the anxious, nervous pull.

"Why did you come back?" Bonnie asked, his lips a breath away from hers.

He stilled his descent and lay a kiss to her cheek instead, "I thought you were calling me."

"No," Bonnie shook her head, "That's not good enough."

"I missed you," he admitted into her nape, "More than I thought I would."

"Because you love me." Bonnie finished for him, her breath catching as she waited for his answer.

"That too." He grudgingly admitted. Damon could feel Bonnie's smile against his skin as her cheeks lit up. She threw her arms around him and he settled comfortable atop her in seconds. When he dared to glance at her face, he found her eyes shining and her skin glowing that delicious pink caramel. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but it wouldn't shake or change – Bonnie was glowing. Maybe it never had been the spell, maybe it had always been how he truly saw her.

"Stay with me," Bonnie whispered against his skin, her lips tracing the edges of his face.

"It's my room," Damon pointed out as his hands clung desperately to her back, running up and down from her shoulder blades to her waits to her hips and back up again as if he was making sure she was as perfect in his hands as he remembered, "I'm not going anywhere."

"It's my room," Bonnie said, arching into his touch as he nuzzled her neck and rained kisses against her skin. He paused over her pulse point to inhale the sweet scent of her blood. He would drive her crazy, he vowed to himself irrationally, he would push her to the edge until she was begging for his bite.

"Our room, then," Damon said, sliding his hands under her shirt and yanking it over her head in one swift motion. She pressed her chest against him, pulling him tight against her skin. A thousand sensations rushed through him at the touch of her skin flat against his own – relief, desire, peace pounding at his veins all at once – and a thousand more when she closed her eyes and a shaky moan escaped her parted lips. She felt it too.

"Wait," Damon said when he saw her start to move in close for a kiss. She paused with a questioning arch of her brow, "What's wrong?"

"I have to tell you something," Damon said, suddenly nervous. He hoped she didn't notice how his palms sweat against her skin. "About the spell."

"Something _else_?" Bonnie frowned. "More than my life for your life business?"

"More than that," Damon said, averting his eyes a bit from shame. But his hands stayed tight on her back, as if he was afraid she would jump up and run away with what he had to say. "I lied to you."

"About what?" Bonnie pushed when he was silent, as if he was waiting for her to rail at him before he revealed what he had kept close to his chest.

"Emily didn't write that spell to summon Katherine." Damon took a deep breath, his eyes locked on the curve of her chin as he forced himself to continue. "She wrote it for me. To save her."

"But you didn't," Bonnie finished for him, stunned. Her mouth hung open in shock. "It was never for Katherine?"

"It was always for me," Damon frowned. "I looked into it a while back. I didn't tell you because," he hesitated, flexing his fingers more tightly into her hips, as if trying to remind her she was his – or as if trying to remember what she felt like before she never let him touch her again, "I didn't want you to stop calling me."

"Why didn't you save her?" Bonnie's voice was soft and curious, not the strong reaction he had expected.

"I don't know," Damon frowned. "I don't think I ever knew she was calling me. I had never felt that," he met her eyes now, and they were stormy with that consuming passion she had once feared and lusted for at once, "_never_ like this, until you."

"So none of my other ancestors tried to call you to protect them?" Bonnie frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

"They might have, but it never worked," Damon said, forcing himself to keep her gaze as she studied him. She tilted her head.

"That's why I didn't need a token for you," Bonnie realized, "The spell was for you."

"Guess so," Damon said. He still didn't dare to move from his position hovering over her – he still braced himself for her reaction.

"How long did you know?"

"Too long."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you why," Damon growled, feeling the impending anger and rejection and bracing for it, "I'm a selfish prick, and I didn't want to give up the attention."

"That's not what you said."

"That's what I meant."

"No," Bonnie translated for him: "You meant: I'm a jealous, possessive vampire who will do whatever it takes to keep the beautiful Bonnie Bennett captivated by him and captivating no one else."

"That too," Damon frowned. "You're not reacting as I expected."

"What did you expect?" Bonnie said, a smile pulling at her lips at his serious expression. She raised a hand to caress his cheek and felt butterflies spark to life as he leaned into her touch. Her Damon, she thought, was sorely in need of being loved – of speaking the truth without fear of rejection, of that unconditional affection she had been blessed to have so much of. He needed her, and she needed him – needed his passion, his fierceness, the possessive way his eyes raked over her and the knee-weakening way his hands did – to make her feel grounded, and _alive_ – to pull her from her mourning into this irrational, ridiculous, frenzied happiness.

"Anger," Damon said, "In the form of aneurysms and bon-fires."

Bonnie grinned. "Emily gave you to me."

"I suppose she did." Damon admitted.

"You're mine," Bonnie said, "How can I be angry about that?"

"But I kept you looking for Grams, knowing it wouldn't work – knowing it was only meant for vampires," Damon felt the words burst out of his chest. There was no holding back – he knew he couldn't risk this rejection a day longer. He had to have it out, have it done with _now_ before... before... well, before he fell even harder for the little magical mortal and her anger stung that much worse. "It's my fault you exhausted yourself to near death."

"It was my fault, too," Bonnie said, her hands tracing his cheekbones now – fingers skimming his lips. He forced himself to keep from giving in to the soft, sweet touch thought he couldn't help his eyes from hooding when she tangled her fingers in his hair. "I was so obsessed with the spell I didn't realize I could find Grams right here, right in my heart. I don't have to summon what's right with me." She paused to catch Damon's eye and tugged sharply on his hair, pulling him closer, "Though, you could have clued me in."

"I'm sorry," Damon said, surprised himself to hear the words leave his mouth. But it was true. He was sorry for hurting her. That's why he had left her: to stop the hurting. That's why he hated himself for coming back and forcing his secrets on her – knowing it would only bring more pain.

"I know," Bonnie said quickly, "I know you're sorry, you don't have to keep doing this penance to prove it. Don't keep yourself away from me, Damon," Bonnie said, tugging on his ear lobe, "You don't have to. We're okay, we're even. Just stay with me."

"You forgive me?" he whispered, his eyes narrowing as he studied her reaction.

Bonnie felt his eyes on him, and a delicious smile curved her lips. "That depends."

"On what?" Damon frowned.

"On how good you are making it up to me," Bonnie said, glancing up at him through hooded eyes. Her cheeks flushed that delicious pink, and even Damon was surprised at the growl that escaped his throat. But he didn't have time to think about it, because Bonnie was pulling him in for a long, slow kiss. And this time, the fireworks rained for hours.

When asked later, Bonnie would deny that she had anything to do with the explosion of light that continued inexplicably until dawn. She really didn't, she would tell Damon when he arched a brow – the fireworks were all him.

**BDBDBDBDBD**

"It was hard," Bonnie admitted as she lay sprawled against his chest, her cheek sticking with damp sweat to his skin. He let out a content sigh and wrapped his arms around her. "Not calling you when I missed you so."

"I'm glad you didn't," Damon said. His chest felt tight again – but it wasn't an aching tightness of missing something; it was that full, happy to tears tightness of never wanting to let someone go. He patted Bonnie's butt for good measure, just to make sure she knew he wasn't as big a sap as he felt.

"I would have," Bonnie continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "A bit of my life to see you? In my loneliest moments, it was definitely worth it."

Damon frowned. He looked down at the precious woman that clung tighter to him, as if to keep him from studying her face. But he felt the dampness on her cheeks that she tried to sniffle back, "Don't ever think that."

"I know," Bonnie hurriedly added. "I could take giving up a few years to be with you," she kissed the spot on his chest where his heart should have been beating, "But I couldn't stand you not forgiving me."

"You don't have to call me," Damon said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He shifted his body so their legs tangled, and closed his eyes at the sensation of her bare leg against his. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Better not," Bonnie said on a yawn, "Or I'll torch your ass."

Bonnie enjoyed the way his laughter shook his chest, soaking the happy vibrations into her skin as she drifted into peaceful sleep. This was contentment, she thought – this was the feeling of wholeness. And to think, it all started with a spell by a witch in desperate need of Damon's saving hand – and it had come, a few generations late, to stem the sorrow in her heavy heart. She smiled in her sleep.

His bed sheets smelled of her and he couldn't think of anything more perfect than being enveloped in her. Damon closed his eyes, and felt like he was wrapped up in a world of rich sensations: the smell of the earth after the rain, the sound of a rushing waterfall in the distance, the anxious nerves of pressing a girl against a door to steal a kiss or into the earth as enemy soldiers awaited – and, gloriously, the beat of her hummingbird heart as it battered against his chest as if for release – as if it were bursting, searching for him. He smoothed his hand over her breast as if to say, _still heart, I'm here._

The room kicked up as her heart beat calmed – the curtains floated up in the wind and the air was heavy with the scent of oranges. A few fireflies slipped through the windows in the July heat and hung in the air, glowing brightly and hovering protectively like beautiful, magical fairy lights. No doubt, a gift from his witch.

Damon cradled her protectively in his arms, suddenly grateful for the decades he had spent alone and unappreciated – because Bonnie's simple, forgiving, enchanting love – the way she _saw_ him (all human and vampire twisted into one) and still wanted him – was worth the wait. She would give parts of his life to see him, she had said. As he drifted on the edge of sleep, his love peaceful in his arms, Damon had never been more sure that he _had_ given up his life – the happy, content, beloved parts of it – and given into the darkness so it all could be balanced and repaid now with the most delicious, glowing orb of light and love he had ever known.

He hadn't saved Emily with that spell, he realized – but she had saved him, and she had saved for him the best reward of all in caring for a line: a place in it for himself. _Bonnie is mine,_ he had told Stefan in a fit of rage so many weeks earlier, _and all her children will be mine!_ He didn't realize how much he meant those words or how he meant them until now – until Bonnie laughed lightly in her sleep, nuzzled her cheek against his chest and whispered, "Welcome home, my love."

Welcome home, indeed.


	18. sigh no more

**AN: Here it is! The long-awaited epilogue. Appropriately, it takes place a year later! I just wanted to say, THANK YOU to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourite and/or alerted for this story. I hope you enjoyed it! Here it is **

**Sigh no more**

**BDBDBDBD**

_My heart was never pure – you know me._

It had been a year since everything changed.

Bonnie, outwardly, was surprised that it had lasted that long. When she laughed with Elena and Caroline over milkshakes at the Grille and they teased her about how drastically different things were, she played along. _You used to _hate _him_, Caroline would laugh and nudge her in the shoulder. _Remember when you set him on fire?_ Elena would make a face. Outwardly, Bonnie would nod and agree – _it's so weird that things are so... stable_.

But inwardly, it was so easy. So simple. Like everything had clicked into place.

Sometimes, she still caught him looking at her like she was glowing – like she was humming with that special incantation that could pull his heart to beating. He had never looked at Elena like that, never Katherine. That look was reserved for her. His eyes weren't intense or wide – they were soft and focused. They didn't dart with premeditated plans, with calculations of who to kill and how and how fast and when. They were calm, and when they set on her, they were at peace.

"I'm going to college in the fall," Bonnie had announced soon after he had returned, wrapped up in his arms on a rainy day. They lay in bed with the curtains billowing, the floor getting wet, and neither of them willing to break the hypnotic lock of their embrace. She had expected him to make some snarky remark, to turn up his nose at her silly mortal activities. She had steeled herself for his response.

"Alright," he had said.

"That's it?" She quirked a brow, "You're not going to try to stop me?"

"I have two doctorates and a law degree," Damon said simply.

"What?" Bonnie gaped, leaning back off of him so she could get a good look at his face. "It doesn't count if you compelled them out of the admissions officer."

"I didn't."

"Or the professor."

A grin. "I didn't."

"Doesn't count if you slept your way to a degree, either," Bonnie muttered, resting her head on his chest again. Sometimes she forgot how much older he was than her.

"Doesn't count if you do, either," Damon retorted, tapping the small of her back lightly.

"_I_ wouldn't have to," Bonnie said. He started tracing circles on her back and they were silent for a while, listening to the rain.

"Even if your professor is hot?" Damon said.

"Hotter than my boyfriend?" Bonnie had retorted.

Damon grinned. "Alright. I give you permission to attend college."

"Gee, thanks," Bonnie snorted.

"As long as you don't sleep with _any _of your professors."

"I'll try to keep my pants on."

"And I get to pick your courses."

"You can pick one," Bonnie conceded, "elective."

"History," Damon grinned, shifting to pull her more flatly on top of him.

"Fine," she smiled back. Then he lowered his lips to hers.

It had been such a short and simple conversation that she hadn't expected him to remember. But sure enough, come September, she was sitting in her history class, checking her phone for texts from Damon when in walked the professor.

All eyes snapped to him but hers. It wasn't until he had scrawled his name across the chalk board and cleared his throat that she looked up.

"You can call me Professor Salvatore," he said. With a smirk. From the back of the room, Bonnie rolled her eyes.

That night, they made love in her single bed and she refused – _refused_ – to call him that.

The next day she dropped his class.

"I'm overqualified to teach history anyway," Damon had conceded.

"Only because you've lived it all," Bonnie had retorted. "I should get a history degree just for sleeping with you. Ancient history."

Damon had smirked and, for the rest of the term, referred to their night time activities as 'extra credit'.

He bought a house off campus where she spent most of her weekends. She made new friends. She dragged him to a Halloween party where she dressed up as a vampire and he was her victim. They laughed at inside jokes, held hands under the table in the library and made love in the most random of places.

Once, they did it in the rain at midnight on top of the tallest building in campus. Bonnie thought they would get caught, so Damon engulfed them in fog. She muttered about him only using his powers for evil. He muttered that he loved her. And she accepted it.

She missed Elena and Caroline who had both taken a year off to figure out what they wanted to do with their lives.

"The boarding house is empty without you two," Elena had said over the phone.

"Mystic Falls," Caroline had sighed, "is boring."

"Let them be lonely," Damon dismissed their complaints with a wave of his hand and a kiss on her cheek. "I did without you for over a hundred years, surely they can last a few more months."

And that's how she wound up at the Grille, nearing the end of her first year of school, making plans with Elena and Caroline for them to join her and sharing secret glances with Damon across the room. She sat there as they talked excitedly around her, as the room filled with familiar voices and scents. She closed her eyes and felt a warm comfort spreading from the center of her chest to the peaks of her cheeks. She thrummed her fingers lightly over her heart and knew, _knew_ that she would never be alone or wrapped in the same kind of grief again.

Grams would always be with her, Bonnie had come to realize. And, she was secretly happy to say, Damon would be too.

With her eyes closed for a moment, Bonnie smiled and her cheeks lit up with that delicious pink. She would never know, but every eye on the room was on her: that glowing orb of goodness, of peace, of love.

**BDBDBDBDBD**

_Love, it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you – it will set you free, be more like the man you were made to be._

It had been a year since he realized the little witch held his humanity in her hands.

Sometimes, he still touched her as if he couldn't let her go – as if he would be lost forever if he did, as if he could only be saved if he was still caressing that inch of skin, if he was still nuzzling that delicate nape. He got lost kissing her neck and jaw line, tucking her into his embrace. He could breathe her in for hours, it seemed, without realizing any time had passed at all.

His favourite past time was making love to her outdoors, in the elements, hearing her cries of pleasure and erratic heartbeat meld into an orchestra around him – it was a magical embrace he would never tire of, or tell her of. Knowing her like that, it would be his selfish secret, the one thing about her – the one understanding of her – that no one else would ever have.

The longer he spent with her, the more he could control the urges – to kill, to hurt, to damage. All the anger slid into chaotic passion which was slowly dimming into contentment.

Sometimes, he would catch a random person admiring her beauty and he would hold her hand a little harder, or pull her into a corner for a quick kiss, or wrap in his jacket to cover her in his scent. It was irrational, he knew. He often bit down on his tongue to keep from making a comment that would anger her – something that would have her waving that judgey little finger at him, yelling something about it _not being the eighteen hundreds anymore and you don't _own_ me, Damon_! Sometimes, when a luscious co-ed smiled at him, he smiled back just to see what Bonnie would do.

She linked her fingers in his belt loop and tugged him closer, pressed her face to his chest like she expected him to embrace her, closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. Then she'd look up at him with one of those adorable Bennett smirks and he would forget that the co-ed existed at all.

Violence was his thing – aggression was a carefully honed talent. He liked to think of himself the Mozart of torture. But with Bonnie, it was different. If he was a killer, she was a soother. If he was a murderer, she was a lover. Whereas he was ready to rip the eyes out of any guy that looked at her _wrong_ (or, let's face it, _at all_), she could steal all his words by reaching out and linking his hand with hers.

It was strange. At first, he thought it was a spell. Later, he wondered if she even realized she did it at all. She didn't, he concluded at last, one night as they were covered in fog, her excited laughter disappearing into his kisses. It was him, he realized. He loved her.

He kissed her, stared at her, wrapped his arms around her and refused to let go, until he was certain she _knew_ in her heart of hearts – that he really was hers, after all.

The first time she let him bite her, he was overwhelmed by the taste of oranges. Everywhere, the sweet citrus seemed to light him up on the inside. He craved her always after that, and they had settled into a comfortable habit of him drawing from her lip, her neck, the inside of her thigh, the nook of her elbow or wherever he happened to be kissing her to confusion, every other morning. He always ran a fang over his tongue and kissed her hard afterwards, watching her heel before him with a deep, deep satisfaction that was more than feeding from someone he loved.

It was his way of protecting her.

She cradled his black-veined face and told him she loved him before she went to class.

And it stunned him every time.

_The luck of it all. The unfairness_. One tragic mistake years ago, and he would never have had his Bonnie at all. When he thought those thoughts, felt her lying lifeless in his arms again, heard her strangled cry as he attacked her – he hated himself.

And he cherished her all the more knowing, _knowing_ how undeserving he was of her love; and knowing that she never thought the same.

On her nineteenth birthday, he had traced a hand over the curve of her hip as they lay in bed. She was on her stomach, highlighting a psychology book until she had pink marker all over her hands and a bit, amazingly, streaked across her cheek.

"You're getting old," he had said with a frown.

"Don't worry, I'll never catch up to you," she had said, not lifting her eyes from her homework as she waved her ankle in the air, "you'll always be an old pervert."

Damon smirked, his hand coming to rest on her butt. "But you won't always be my jailbait arm candy."

She hit him with her foot. "Shut up."

"I'm serious," Damon said, his voice lowering. He squeezed her thigh to get her to look at him, and she rubbed his arm absently with her foot.

"It's called growing up," Bonnie pointed out.

"Bonnie," Damon said, a warning tone in his voice.

She turned to look at him at last, her scowl less threatening with the pink streak of highlighter across her cheek. "Damon."

"I just need a date," Damon said, his eyes falling to her form. She watched him looking at her, stopped moving as she listened to his words. "Just tell me when. Counting down will make it easier."

"Make what easier?"

"Waiting to turn you." He didn't meet her eyes.

"You are _not_ turning me," Bonnie frowned. "Damon, look at me."

He did then, and his eyes were back to their crazy, psychotic state.

"Damon, I'm not going to be a vampire."

"Bonnie," Damon said, his look turning fierce. "You're mortal."

"So?"

"You're fragile." Damon said, "Anything can happen, anything can hurt you!"

"I'm a witch." Bonnie pointed out, "I can take care of myself."

"I can't lose you." He said quickly, almost speaking over her. "Don't make me."

"Vampires die too," Bonnie muttered.

"Not as easily," Damon shook his head. "You could be gone like that," he snapped his fingers. Then he met her eyes again, and the stark honesty there startled her. "I will protect you, mortal or not. But I would worry less if you weren't so... mortal."

"I'm a witch," Bonnie said at last, turning to face him. She sat up in front of him and placed a kiss to his forehead, one had sliding down to trace his jaw. "I can't be a vampire _and_ a witch."

"Then be a vampire." Damon said, but even he knew that wasn't an option for her. Bonnie was a witch. It was what made her, _her_.

"How old were you?" Bonnie asked, twisting his hair between her fingers. "When Katherine turned you?"

"Twenty seven," Damon said.

"Eight years," Bonnie nodded solemnly. "You think you can keep me alive that long?"

Damon smirked, rolling his eyes. "If I must."

"We'll find another way," Bonnie said, lowering her mouth to nip at his. "I'm not going to leave you."

"If you do," he said, his voice low, his forehead pressed against hers, "You will regret it."

"Shut up." Bonnie said, nipping at him again, tugging at his lower lip with her teeth. "All you really want is a sexy, un-aging, indestructible girlfriend. Right?"

"Sounds perfect," Damon smirked against her lips. She felt his hand on the small of her back pulling her closer.

"I'm sure there's a spell for that."

"You and your spells." He groaned.

"You love my spells," she said and he swallowed her words on a kiss.

And that's how Damon ended up back in Mystic Falls, shooting pool with his brother when he could have been kissing his witch under a waterfall. Bonnie and the girls were catching up over French fries, excitedly planning a life that Damon dreaded – because it meant sharing Bonnie, it meant putting her in harm's way _again_ to protect her hapless friends.

There was a witch in Chicago, Stefan had confided in him, that he had met in the 1920s. She had a spell that kept her from aging or getting ill.

They were planning a field trip to see her that night without letting the girls know. She had made him a vampire with a human heart. It was only fair, he would tell her when he presented her with the spell, that he make her an immortal witch.

"I can't risk it," Damon had said. "She'll want to come along, and..."

"And you don't want to put her in harm's way," Stefan had shook his head. "Be careful, brother, before you start caring too much."

_Too late_, Damon had thought as he missed his shot. Stefan moved to take his shot, and Damon barely heard the cue ball connect and fall into the side pocket.

Because Bonnie was in his sight. She was laughing and smiling. She paused to tap her fingers to her heart, as she often did when she thought of Grams – though she didn't know he knew. He felt a twinge of regret just before she closed her eyes and smiled. She was stunning. Every man in the room was looking at her, every eye glowed to that delicious caramel-rose glow.

And for once, Damon thought as her green eyes snapped open and met his and his alone, he would be generous and let them.

**The End.**

**AN: Once again, thank you for reading! I am considering writing an original story in the future; a link will be up in my profile if you're interested. Yay for Bonnie and Damon; it doesn't seem like it's gonna happen anytime soon on the show (boo) but a girl can dream!**


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